


Aureole

by Mandaloria593



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Action & Romance, Duelling, Everyone Thinks They're Together, Fluff and Humor, Flustered Din Djarin, Force Bond (Star Wars), Hands, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M, No Angst, Post-Epiosde: s02e08 The Rescue, Press and Tabloids, Sharing Clothes, Sharing Weapons yes even THAT one, Sharing a Bed, Sharing an X-Wing Cockpit, Tactile Luke Skywalker, Talkshows, Tickling, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 47,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28653660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandaloria593/pseuds/Mandaloria593
Summary: A few months after Grogu left Moff Gideon’s cruiser with the Jedi, the Jedi comes searching for Din and finds him on Mandalore’s moon of Concordia. Din is roped into an adventure that brings him closer to the Jedi than he could have ever imagined.[Or, the one where every Coruscant tabloid assumes the Jedi and Mando are dating...and the headlines might be onto something]
Relationships: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 357
Kudos: 1166





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Aureole:_ a circle of light or brightness surrounding something, especially as depicted in art around the head or body of a person represented as holy.

The black-robed being removed their hood and stepped forward. 

“You’re a hard man to find, Din Djarin.”

Din had come to know that the Jedi Master’s name was Luke Skywalker. What he didn’t know was why the Jedi was here on a moon of Mandalore instead of training Grogu. 

Din tilted his helmet in greeting. “Welcome to Concordia, Master Skywalker.”

“Thank you.” The Jedi tilted his blond head in return. 

Din felt a flutter of concern at the Jedi’s unexplained presence. He visibly scanned the area around the X-Wing and didn’t find what he was looking for—or rather _whom._

Skywalker raised a hand. “He’s not here, sorry.”

Din immediately reached for the darksaber at his belt. “What do you mean he’s not with you?” he demanded in alarm. “What happened?” 

Skywalker kept his palm up. “Peace, Mandalorian. He is safe with my sister.”

Din felt his racing heart settle to a more sedate beat in his chest, but he was still tense. “Is she a Jedi, too?”

“Yes.”

Din relaxed his stance. 

Skywalker approached, coming to stand right in front of Din. He offered a winsome half-smile that seemed a mismatch to his otherwise serious demeanor. To Din’s eyes, Skywalker painted a contradictory if appealing picture of youth and wisdom. He didn’t know if it was a Jedi thing or a Skywalker thing. “Grogu is well.”

Din’s voice caught in his throat, inexplicably torn between relief and longing. “And he’s behaving? I mean, he’s doing the Jedi training stuff you’re asking him to do?” 

“Yes,” Skywalker answered simply, his blue eyes shining. “He’s still quite young for his species, so training is a slow process.” The Jedi turned to look at the view of the mangled Mandalorian homeplanet from where they stood in the wreck of the old lunar mining facility. Then, he looked back to Din and began to speak, his voice sincere, “What you did...saving him, protecting him, caring for him...it’s truly remarkable. You did a good thing. I’m grateful, and so is Grogu.”

“I would do it all again,” Din said honestly. Yes, it had been hard. Life-changing. It left him with an entirely new view on the universe and his role in it. But his heartfelt answer was true. He would always choose Grogu. 

“So you would.” And Skywalker’s softened eyes seemed to pierce right through the visor and see into Din’s very soul. It must be a Jedi thing. He shuddered slightly under the scrutiny, even if it was meant to be praiseworthy. 

Din broke the silence. “So, what do you want?”

“You, actually,” Skywalker said lightly. He reached into his robes and retrieved a small datacard. He placed it on his palm and activated it. The data hologram burst to life, and broken text in Mando’a hovered over Skywalker’s palm. Skywalker traced his finger along some of the glyphs. 

Din stared curiously. 

“This artifact is Mandalorian,” Skywalker stated the obvious. 

“And what? You want me to translate it?” Din asked. “Anyone can do that. You don’t need me specifically.” 

Skywalker deactivated the datacard and closed his gloved fist over it. “I suppose that’s true,” he admitted. “But,” Skywalker paused, a smile broadening on his face, “there is someone who would really, really like to see you.”

Understanding dawned, and Din felt giddy. The ache in his bones from the difficult work he’d been doing with Bo-Katan to retake Mandalore subsided, and the lightness he felt wasn’t due to Concordia’s slightly lower gravity. 

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Skywalker drawled, as if he knew just how much ‘trouble’ it would be for Din to grab at the chance to see Gorgu, “I’d appreciate it if you came to Coruscant and helped me study this artifact, along with several others I found that also appear to be Mandalorian in origin.”

A new voice rang out, strong and skeptical. “And what are Mandalorian artifacts doing on Coruscant?”

“Bo-Katan of Clan Kryze, meet Master Skywalker,” Din introduced. 

“Skywalker?” Bo-Katan repeated dubiously. With a click and a hiss, she removed her helmet. The face underneath was just as fierce. Her expression revealed nothing. Din envied that. He’d removed his helmet frequently enough lately, but he still felt overexposed when he did and hadn’t mastered the ability of schooling his face to avoid revealing his every thought. Most of the time, he kept the helmet on.

“Greetings,” Skywalker offered. “And to answer your question, I have no idea. But I am hoping he can help me figure that out.”

Bo-Katan’s eyes narrowed. “Absolutely not. He’s needed _here.”_

Behind his visor, Din flicked his eyes to Bo-Katan, surprised at her vehemence. She wasn’t in charge of him, but he’d been deferring to her lead, as she was the one with a clear and viable plan to reunite their scattered people. He still carried the Darksaber, and she hadn’t challenged him for it. Yet. She had explained that it was rightfully his, won in battle, and that their best option was to work together. The invitation to join her quest with Koska and Axe had not been retracted. After helping Cara recover the bounty on Moff Gideon, he’d half-heartedly pursued a few bounties, but hadn’t found a ship he really liked enough to buy, and the hunting felt shallow without the purpose of sustaining his lost covert, which he still hadn’t located despite putting out some feelers. It was lonely work, especially the nights when he climbed into his sleeping space and stared up at the empty crib. And Bo-Katan’s assurance that Mandalore was salvageable kept replaying in his mind. After only a few weeks, he reached out to her crew, and they picked him up and began the journey to Mandalorian space. 

And now, the Jedi had found him here.

Din raised a finger to indicate that he needed to speak privately with Bo-Katan. He walked several paces away from Skywalker, and gestured politely for Bo-Katan to follow. He didn’t mince words. “I’m going.”

“The work we’re doing is more critical than some old relics,” Bo-Katan whispered. “We’re closer than ever. I need you here.”

“I’ll come back,” Din promised. He raised his voice, letting Skywalker know the private conversation was over. “I am needed on Coruscant. I’m told my presence is specifically requested.”

“Yes, his presence is requested,” Skywalker chimed in. Din wasn’t sure if Bo-Katan could see it, but he was sure the Jedi’s tone and raised eyebrows were conveying barely restrained amusement.

But then Bo-Katan moved her free hand to her hip. She looked between Din and the Jedi, and suddenly seemed to change her attitude about Din’s imminent departure. She leaned into her hip and grinned knowingly. “Have fun with your kid.”

Din was glad he was wearing his helmet, because he knew his expression must be something goofy. He was going to follow the Jedi regardless, but he was glad he wasn’t leaving on bad terms. The anticipation at seeing Grogu again was causing his stomach to flip-flop. 

“I’ll just get a few things together,” Din told Skywalker, who went to prep his X-Wing for departure. Din grabbed his bag and packed his few belongings. There wasn’t much. Everything he’d owned had been on the _Crest_ when it was blown to smithereens. The memory hurt. But it had all been worth it. 

Din trekked over to Skywalker’s X-Wing.

“I’ll give you the exact coordinates when we get closer to Coruscanti space,” Skywalker was saying.

Din sighed. “I...don’t have a ship. Anymore.”

Surprise—and a slight pinkish color—suffused Skywalker’s face. It was the first expression that didn’t seem deliberate but rather revealed a crack in the serene Jedi mask. He recovered smoothly. “Well then, I guess you have shotgun.”

Din’s stomach flip-flopped again in a slightly different way when he found himself climbing up the ladder to enter the X-Wing’s narrow cockpit. The narrow, _single-seater_ cockpit. Not that Din would have complained about sharing a seat with a Wookiee if it brought him back to Grogu. But it was going to be strange to be in such close proximity to the Jedi. The man was a complete unknown to him, and vice versa. That factor didn’t seem to matter to Skywalker. For a highly-trained warrior sorcerer, Skywalker was extraordinarily trusting of someone he hardly knew. 

Din tossed his pack in the small space behind the pilot’s seat and placed the beskar spear on the long edge along the canopy sill. He settled in with his back against the seat. He took a short breath that didn’t quite fill his lungs with enough oxygen, then opened his legs to make room for Skywalker to sit between his knees.

Before Skywalker climbed into the cockpit, he stopped partway up the ladder to survey the small space and made a hmm sound. Din squirmed a bit, feeling like he was being weighed and judged by those piercing, ice-blue eyes. 

But Skywalker just proceeded to shrug off his voluminous Jedi robes. That made sense. It was going to be cramped enough with two grown men sharing the cockpit, one of them in a full suit of beskar. 

Still, Din was a little surprised when Skywalker, now clad in a black flightsuit, balled the garment up carelessly and tossed it to him. “Dump this back there, will you?”

Din placed the bunched up robes behind the chair on top of his pack. Din didn’t know much about Jedi, but he would never handle pieces of his beskar so irreverently. He wondered if the casualness was a Jedi thing or a Skywalker thing. 

After retracting the ladder, Skywalker slid into the space between Din’s legs. Din had to spread his knees a little wider, but he didn’t have to stretch to an uncomfortable angle to accommodate Skywalker’s lean frame. He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. The space was too narrow to allow enough bend in his elbows to rest his hands on his own thighs comfortably. Carefully, like trying not to wake a sleeping bantha, Din lightly rested his fingertips on Skywalker’s trim waist. “Is this all right, Master Skywalker?” Din started. “I can move a bit…”

“I’m in your lap. I think you can call me Luke,” Skywalker said dryly. 

“Luke,” Din tested the name out. 

“I’m not what you expected, am I?” Luke mused.

“I didn’t know what to expect. You’re very...trusting.”

“I’m sorry, I have you at a bit of a disadvantage,” Luke said ruefully, as he began fiddling with the ship controls. “You see, I feel like I already know you...through Grogu. He has shared so much about you, and I suppose a little of his perspective of you has imprinted on me.”

“Don’t set your expectations too high,” Din warned.

“You mean the stars don’t shine brighter because you told them to?”

Din made an embarrassed sound. 

“You’re his hero. Mighty, nearly mythical in his eyes. And this is from a kid who knew actual Jedi Masters of the Old Republic.”

Din closed his eyes. “He’s just a kid. And I’m...just a man.”

“I don’t think you’re _just_ anything, Din.”

Din met Luke’s statement with silence. He wondered what he had gotten himself into. Luke punched a button, and the canopy came down. 

“This is cozy,” Luke said, and Din was fairly sure he was trying to make a joke that didn’t quite land. “But ah, can you move the saber?”

“Sorry,” Din muttered, cheeks flaming. He hadn’t realized the darksaber was digging into Luke’s lower back. He reached down to adjust it to the outside of his hip. But the embarrassment from the misplacement suddenly made Din hyper-aware of his own body and every point where it came into contact with Luke’s that wasn’t covered in beskar. 

With the offending hilt out of the way, Luke appeared to relax easily against Din, hands already busy again with the controls. Din had never flown an X-Wing, so he tried to pay attention in case he ever had to do so. 

Luke pressed back slightly into Din’s hold as he leaned down to pick up a flight headset and put it on. It didn’t have enough protection to qualify as a helmet in Din’s opinion, but it did have a receiver. 

“Ready, R2?” Luke spoke into the headset’s receiver.

Several affirmative beeps and a whirring chirp answered over local comms. Din craned his neck, and sure enough, he could see the top of the same droid that had been with Luke on the cruiser. 

But when Din whipped his head around to face front again, the edge of his t-visor clunked against the back of Luke’s head. “Sorry!” 

Luke tilted his head slightly forward but otherwise didn’t react. “It’s okay.”

Din wasn’t sure he bought the nonchalant Jedi act, if only because he knew what it felt like to get knocked around by beskar. He lifted his gloved fingers to the abused spot, tenderly sinking under the blond locks to check for a welt or bruising.

Luke still gave him no outward reaction. 

Din’s exploring fingers didn’t find any obvious damage. He wondered if he took his gloves off if he’d feel warm blood rising to the surface indicating injury. But if Luke was going to act stoic about it, it wasn’t Din’s place to pester him.

“I’m fine, really,” Luke said. “It’s not a long trip.”

Din gave Luke’s scalp one more soothing touch, then let his hands fall back to Luke’s waist. If he was embarrassed before, now he could add guilt on top of that. The Jedi was offering him a chance to see Grogu, and Din was returning the favor by placing him in an undignified position and then physically assaulting him. 

But as the X-Wing departed Concordia and the ozone gave way to the blackness of space, Luke only chuckled. “Relax,” he insisted. “I have a thick skull, I can take it. And I’m not easily offended.”

Din considered that. “Are you...reading my mind?”

“You’re being rather loud,” Luke said cagily. It wasn’t a no. 

Din almost apologized again before deciding that if anyone should apologize, it was Jedi for reading his mind. 

Evidently still tuned into Din’s thoughts, Luke elaborated. “I can sense people’s thoughts and feelings in a general way. To get specifics, I have to concentrate. Right now, I was monitoring you, just a little, because I wanted to make sure you were okay with this. I feel like I whisked you away from something important. And I know how much Mandalorians value their privacy, and this ship isn’t exactly designed as a taxi service.”

Din wasn’t sure how to respond. He could relate to the taxi thing, but the thought just made him miss the _Crest._ He put it aside and tried to focus instead on getting to see Grogu again. “It’s fine,” he gave Luke’s own response from earlier back to him.

“R2, are we ready to make the jump?”

The droid emitted an affirmative whistle. 

“Here we go,” Luke announced, pushing forward the controls, and the ship careened into hyperspace.

The familiar streaking lights bathed the cockpit in a blue glow. Din could see a little of Luke’s face reflected in the glass cockpit. 

“We’re on a direct course to Coruscant,” Luke informed him. 

Din had never been to Coruscant. He’d actively avoided it in his bounty hunting, preferring to take pucks concentrated in the Outer Rim. He wondered if he should mention his outstanding arrest warrant. He decided not to. 

The Jedi spoke again, his tone more conversational. “Can you tell me about your mudhorn signet? How you became a clan of two?” 

Din hadn’t been thinking about anything like that for Luke to have picked up on. “How do you know that about me? Is it another Jedi thing?”

“Grogu showed me a little, but I’d love to hear the story from you.”

The request was earnest. It was rather endearing. It reminded Din that the Force-wielding sorcerer in his lap who’d taken out a platoon of dark troopers without even losing his breath was, all things considered, rather young. At least, he appeared to be. In reality, Din imagined the Jedi’s smooth, unblemished skin and boyish charm belied experiences that had aged him far beyond his years. It was a contrast to Din’s own face, which beneath the helmet told a history of his hard life through lines and scars. 

Luke added, “It’s not a long trip, but it’s long enough for that. If you don’t mind?”

“All right,” Din agreed. He leaned his helmet back against the headrest, and some minute shifting in his lap indicated Luke might have subtly leaned back, too. Din was lulled by the gentle hum of the ship as it hurtled through hyperspace towards Coruscant. Towards Grogu. “It all started with a bounty that didn’t come with a puck...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am excited to share that [mensuramjr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mensuramjr/pseuds/MarinaDrawsFanart) has honored us with this amazingly sweet depiction of Din and Luke sharing the X-Wing cockpit! Please go send her ALL THE LOVE [Here](https://marinapaintsfanart.tumblr.com/post/642998892642910208/first-x-wing-interior-first-completed) on her tumblr, MarinaPaintsFanArt! Thank you, Marina! My plants are watered and my tea is hot! 


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din imagined he looked ridiculous wearing Jedi robes on top of his Mandalorian armor, but that was beside the point.

“Oh no,” Luke said in dismay as he guided the X-Wing towards the designated landing pad. 

Din peered over the edge of the cockpit’s canopy. He saw a small crowd of people. “Not the welcome committee?”

“It’s a welcome committee, alright,” Luke muttered. He circled the landing area without actually bringing the ship any closer to the elevated pad. 

At the Jedi’s sour tone, Din reached for the blaster in his boot holster. “Is this a hot reentry?”

“No, no,” Luke insisted quickly, placing his hand on Din’s to stop him from drawing the blaster. “That’s not what I mean.” He brought his fingers to his chin. “Maybe I should reroute us to a different landing pad.” 

Din zoomed in with his visor to survey the throng of beings that were crowding the platform. They didn’t appear particularly threatening. They were pointing up at the X-Wing in apparent excitement. They looked like harmless civilians to Din, if more colorfully dressed than the folks he typically saw in the Outer Rim.

It was at that moment that the engine fuel signal, which had been blinking yellow for a while, switched to red and started beeping obnoxiously. The R2 droid whistled mournfully. 

“That’s settled then,” Luke announced, activating the landing gear and lowering the X-Wing. “I apologize in advance, Din. Grogu has shown me about the armor and how you...well. Leia’s going to have another target to thwack with the revised sensitivity manual.”

“What?” Din asked, increasingly perplexed. Luke might not want him to draw his blaster, but he still had the beskar spear, and he didn’t have to store it on his back immediately. 

Luke landed the X-Wing in such a graceful touchdown that Din barely registered the moment of impact. Luke flipped a switch that apparently enabled the droid to lower itself down and roll away as well as to release the ladder. But Luke made no move to get up from Din’s lap. Instead, he seemed to burrow himself deeper inside the cockpit. “Maybe if we just stay in here, they’ll go away.” 

Din blinked. What kind of horrible fate was awaiting them that would leave a powerful Jedi Master like Luke cowering inside his ship? “Just say the word, and I’ll shoot first,” Din offered.

Unexpectedly, Din’s statement caused Luke to laugh. Still holding him, Din could actually feel the man’s laughter as it rumbled in his chest and belly. “I’ll let Han know you approve of his methods.” 

A few moments passed in silence. Din began to wonder if Luke actually intended for them to hide in the cockpit until the ‘welcome committee’ retreated. His limbs were beginning to ache. He was well used to reconnaissance work, mastering the ability to remain still for long periods of time while stalking bounties, but he didn’t usually have another person crowding his space. He certainly didn’t usually have someone like _Luke_ pressed against him. Luke wasn’t just another bounty hunter working a mission. Nor was he a bounty Din was preparing to put in carbonite. He certainly wasn’t a fellow armored Mandalorian bunkered down in the covert. This was a Jedi, the supposed ancient enemy of Mandalorians. But he was also the man to whom Din had entrusted _Grogu._ The kid was an excellent judge of character. Luke was obviously a powerful warrior, Din had seen that for himself on the cruiser, but he was also...kind. Curious. Trusting. For all that he was a professed Jedi Master, he had a natural exuberance that shined through the calm exterior that Din was beginning to recognize as distinctly Jedi. 

Din shifted uncomfortably. He needed space. The air had grown stagnant since Luke had cut the engine but not yet opened the canopy hatch. He tugged at the cowl around his neck.

“Wait, I’ve got an idea.” 

The Jedi was adjusting his position in the seat, and Din felt Luke’s hand skate down his thigh just on the edge of his beskar plating, searching for something along the side of the chair. 

“You’re not that much taller than me.” 

Din still didn’t understand the threat they were facing, much less Luke’s plan. But he was very aware that the seat was suddenly _reclining._ And the Jedi was twisting now, turning his entire body around as the seat dipped Din back, back, and back. The seat didn’t quite reach a horizontal orientation, but Din was extremely aware that in their new position, Luke was basically kneeling on top of him. 

“What are you _doing?”_ Din whispered, trying to keep his voice steady. Fight or flight instincts warred with a completely different reaction to having Luke chest to chest against him. He glued his hands to his side and willed his body not to react in any way that would make things even more awkward. 

“Sorry! Just a second.” And Luke was reaching over Din’s head to fish for something behind the pilot’s seat. Triumphantly, he pulled forth his Jedi robes. “Put these on,” he encouraged. 

“Why?”

“Trust me.” Luke’s eyes were bright and so close. 

Din sighed. “How am I supposed to get them on with you on top of me?”

“I’ll help you. Just reach your arm out that way. Yes. No. Like that. Okay, bend here…” 

And after a lot of effort for which Din didn’t even grasp the purpose, they managed to get the Jedi robes on him over his armor. 

Luke punched a button to open the X-Wing’s canopy. Crouched at Din’s feet, Luke reached towards Din’s face. Din instinctively jerked back as Luke’s hand appeared to be going for his helmet. But Luke only grabbed the black fabric behind Din’s head and pulled the hood of the robes up until it covered Din’s face. “There. You look like a mysterious fellow Jedi.”

Din imagined he looked _ridiculous_ wearing Jedi robes on top of his Mandalorian armor, but that was beside the point. “Can we go now?”

Instead of answering, Luke climbed off of him and out of the X-Wing cockpit. Din grabbed his pack and his spear and threw his leg over the side to catch the first rung of the ladder. As he descended, he kept his head down inside the hood of Luke’s Jedi robes. He wasn’t sure why Luke felt it necessary to _hide_ Din from others, but he wasn’t going to make a fuss about it if it meant he was going to meet up with the kid. He could admit, however, that it stung somewhat. Was it really so bad for a Jedi to be seen with a Mandalorian? He remembered Ahsoka’s amusement at his suggestion that the magistrate would never expect them to team up. Din supposed he’d expected Luke to feel similarly—not to want to cover up Din’s armor at the first sight of New Republic onlookers. 

Once his feet were solidly on the landing platform, he realized he wasn’t sure which way to go. _How did Luke see out from under this hood, anway?_

And then, Luke was at his side, guiding him in sure steps across the platform. “Yes, hello, I’m back. Greetings, all,” Luke acknowledged the crowd, who were calling his name and...were those flashes? Were holos being taken?

“Master Luke! Coruscant Eyes on Five! Who’s your friend?”

More bright flashes.

“Red Five Flashnews! What are your plans this week? Any updates on the Jedi praxeum?”

 _What in the universe?_

“Just keep walking,” Luke prodded.

“Master Luke, you look great! Smile over here, will you, hero?”

“We love you, Skywalker!”

“Hey buddy, push back your hood so we can get a holo, please? Just a peek?”

Din kept his head down and let Luke lead them in a near _jog_ across the rest of the platform to the door that opened, revealing a gold protocol droid standing next to the R2 unit.

The droid spoke as it closed the doors behind them, shutting out the passersby. “My stars, Master Luke! How did they find this platform number?”

“Someone at the tower who gave me clearance must have passed on the flightplan.”

“Shall I lodge another complaint, Sir?” the droid tittered.

“No, it’s okay, Threepio. Don’t worry about it.” Luke patted the droid on the back and motioned for Din to follow him down the corridor. 

As they walked, Din heard the droid continue to mutter to the R2 unit something about filing a complaint anyway, and the R2 unit beeped a curt reply. 

Din wondered if he could take off the Jedi robes yet. They were quite insulating, and as Luke led him by the arm, which he still hadn’t released, Din was feeling very warm under twin layers of robes and beskar. 

Eventually, they arrived at an unmarked door, and Luke entered a code on the console. The door whished open, and Luke ushered Din inside. It looked like some kind of upscale living quarters. They were in a sitting room with huge floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Din found himself marveling at the view. He’d been to many planets, with cities he’d considered fairly large, but he’d never seen _so many people_ concentrated in one place before. Huge spires towered over what looked like an endless expanse of city. Ships flew in organized traffic patterns that dotted the sky like ants. 

“A far cry from Tatooine, isn’t it?” Luke commented softly, coming to stand at Din’s side. 

Din nodded and made a mental note to ask Luke what could have possibly brought him to such a backwater planet as Tatooine. But then he remembered Luke might not be able to see his nod under the hood. “Can I take this off now?” 

“Of course!” Luke replied. 

Din slipped out of the robes and carefully folded them over his arm before returning them to Luke. 

Luke was watching him. “I’m sorry about that out there. By the time I realized the paparazzi were camped out, it seemed better to just power through it.”

“Papa ratz’i?” Din wasn’t familiar with that term, but he’d understood Luke had wanted to hide Din’s presence. More specifically, to hide a Mandalorian’s presence. 

“The people taking holos to put in the tabloids? They’re probably mad as rancors that they didn’t get anything juicy.”

 _Juicy?_ Din knew that word, but he wasn’t sure how it applied to the situation. He usually reserved it for freshly prepared meat or the squishy insides of a speared ice spider. “I’m sorry if my presence made things difficult for you” Din apologized. “I know that Mandalorians aren’t welcome...everywhere. I appreciate that you were willing to risk being seen with me.”

Luke’s eyebrows shot up. Then, his expression softened. “Din,” he said slowly, “that’s not what happened. I’m not...I wasn’t trying to hide you for _my sake._ It was for _yours.”_

Din looked at him askance. 

“Ever since I became a hero of the Rebellion, I’ve been plagued with a certain amount of notoriety,” Luke explained. “People want my face in the tabloids. They want to know about my plans for the Jedi and for the Republic. But more than that, they want to know about my personal life: what my favorite food is, where I buy my boots, and what kind of romantic partner I’d take on a date. Once they got holos of us exiting my X-Wing together, I knew they’d make certain...assumptions about you. Insinuations about _us._ I didn’t want to offend you. Grogu showed me how highly you value your privacy, and not just the helmet creed. I was trying to be respectful of your culture. I’m sorry for any misunderstanding. I would _never_ not want to be seen with you.” 

Din’s mouth opened and he gaped at Luke like a colo claw fish from behind his helmet. “Oh.” The small sound was all he could manage. He had no idea what Grogu had _communed_ about to make Luke think Din would be scandalized by strangers thinking he was _with_ Luke. The notion of being mistaken for one of Luke’s _dates_ was certainly not, to use Luke’s word, _offensive_. Regardless, he was struck by Luke’s thoughtfulness. 

Luke squeezed Din’s shoulder. “Are we okay?”

“Yes,” Din answered, but inside his stomach was doing somersaults. “Do you ever get used to it? The papa ratz’i?”

“Never,” Luke averred. He withdrew his hand from Din’s shoulder and walked over to the kitchen on the far side of the room. He retrieved two glasses from a cabinet, then opened a cooling unit and removed a pitcher of water. He poured two glasses. “I’m as parched as a tauntaun after a long ride. You must be, too.”

Din looked around the apartment with new eyes. “Is this where you live?”

Luke shrugged and sipped from his glass. “Sometimes.”

Din walked over to the counter and took a seat across from Luke. Luke pushed a glass of water towards him. Din held it with both gloved hands and looked at it like it was the most interesting thing in the room.

After a beat, Luke put down his glass. “I should leave, right? On the imperial cruiser, that was different. That wasn’t meant for me. Wow, I’m really bungling everything, aren’t I? I’m a terrible host.”

Before Luke’s rambling carried him out the door, Din interjected, “Wait. You’re right. I just...I’m overthinking this.” He began to lift up his helmet. 

In the blink of an eye, Luke was suddenly there, hands coming up to Din’s helmet and holding it in place. Din had only tipped it up high enough to reveal his chin and lips. His mouth was dry, and he darted out his tongue to wet his lips. He wanted...the water. He brought the glass to his lips and gulped the water down. 

Luke’s hands dropped to his sides, but he was still close. “I thought you were going to take it off.”

“I still might.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can pretend I never saw your face.”

Din remembered the same offer being made by Mayfeld. It didn’t work like that, but it was a nice gesture. 

Luke continued, “If I meditate hard enough, I might even be able to remove the memory from my mind altogether.”

That shocking statement made Din tilt his visor up to stare at Luke.

“But please don’t ask me to,” Luke finished quietly.

Din downed the rest of the water, then slipped the helmet back down to cover his face completely. “I wouldn’t ask that, even if you _could_ do it.” He didn’t elaborate that it wouldn’t change the fact that Din had voluntarily removed it in the Jedi’s presence in order to say goodbye to Grogu. He also found he didn’t mind that Luke had seen his face. Din could write that instinct off as figuring that Luke seeing his face was better than a bunch of Imps. But he wasn’t sure that was all there was to it.

Luke seemed to accept his statement and went back to the other side of the counter. “I’d offer you something stronger, but I think Grogu is about to come bounding in here.”

“Really?” That perked Din up. 

Luke smiled. “I was going to fetch him from Leia, who’s just next-door, but he sensed your presence the moment we landed. He’s growing stronger with the Force every day.” 

Sure enough, the door whished open not even a minute later, and a little green blur came darting into the room towards Din. 

Din sank on the floor, sat back on his haunches, and held out his arms, which were promptly filled by a cooing, shaking child with great big ears.

Even though Din wanted to hug Grogu tightly, he kept his hold light. The kid was a precious burden, and he was always careful with him, never wanting to crush or control him. But right now, the kid was obviously overjoyed to be in Din’s arms. And his happiness was infectious. Din felt ten times lighter, and at the same time he wanted to cry tears of relief that his forever-goodbye had not been forever after all. 

Green hands stretched out, the kid eager to touch Din’s face again. It was like giving a dewback a cookie. Give one, and more would be wanted. How could Din say no to him? Aware that Luke was in the room watching their reunion, he announced his intentions. “I’m taking off my helmet, and you don’t have to leave.” With no further preamble, he tipped the helmet up and off, letting it thunk onto the floor. He gathered Grogu close and felt the same amazement as before when small fingers traced his jaw. He reached back to do the same, petting the kid’s head and teasing an ear. The kid’s coos had ebbed, fascinated as he was with mapping Din’s face without the pressure of an imminent farewell. 

Din looked up and sought out Luke with his eyes. “Thank you,” he mouthed, barely vocalizing the words but meaning them more than he could say. 

Luke nodded, clasping his hands at his front. He simply waited, patiently, smiling, as Din reunited with his child.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Jedi looked like he was taking a quick nap rather than uncovering the mystical enigmas of the Force.

Din’s helmet audio system picked up the intimidating sound before he saw any trace of its source.

A roar. Not in warning, but in greeting. Still...he should probably say something.

“There’s a Wookiee in your apartment.” 

Luke didn’t look up from behind the old, torn journal he was reading. “That’s Chewbacca. I’ll introduce you.”

Din kept his reaction neutral. He’d run into a Wookiee bounty hunter once. They’d both been after the same bounty. Din had chosen the wiser course and bowed out. He hadn’t wanted to lose an arm. 

When the roar repeated, louder, Grogu lifted his head from where it was resting at Din’s side. Din moved his hand to provide comfort, but he realized Grogu wasn’t upset. Instead, Grogu rubbed his eyes and rose up on his feet. He looked up at Din, his big, round eyes full of excitement. He chirped a pleased sound. “You know that roar, huh, kid?”

“Grogu likes Chewie,” Luke said.

‘Chewie’ loomed in the doorway, so tall he nearly had to duck to enter the room. He roared a short greeting. Din didn’t speak Shyriiwook, but he understood rudimentary phrases and the gist of which vocalizations were friendly or unfriendly. This sound was definitely friendly. And Grogu was toddling over to the giant and requesting to be picked up. 

Din frowned as Grogu was lifted high in the air. But what was bothering him wasn’t anything to do with the hulking size of the Wookiee, but rather how Din had missed out on so much over the last few months. Of course the kid had forged new connections, not just with Luke, his Jedi teacher, but others in Luke’s life. 

The Wookiee roared a question, and Luke’s eyes flicked to Din before answering, “Yep, that’s him. Chewbacca, meet Din Djarin. Din, meet Chewbacca.”

“Another hero of the Rebellion?”

“Of course.”

As Din returned Chewbacca’s greeting, he wondered whether the Wookiee was a Jedi, too. Was Grogu using his Force powers to tell _everyone_ about Din? As Din stood up, Grogu reached for him, and Chewbacca handed him back over, saying something that translated to ‘here, father.’ “Thanks,” Din said, settling Grogu in the crook of his arm. 

Chewbacca gestured at Din’s blaster and roared a question about its make and model. 

Din pulled out the blaster and flipped the barrel towards himself as he presented it to the Wookiee. “Yeah, it’s a new model. I lost all my favorites when my ship got blown up by imps. Got this one from a hunter on Tatooine.” It had actually been a parting gift from Boba Fett, who’d been making himself quite the king of his castle in the old Hutt base. Din had insisted no gifts were necessary since it was _Din_ who owed _Fett_ for helping save Grogu, but Fett had insisted he couldn’t let Din leave without restocking his armaments. 

Chewbacca turned the blaster over in his huge hands, inspecting it. He roared something approving. 

“You understand Shyriiwook?” Luke inquired.

“Not really. I can get by,” Din qualified. But Luke looked mildly impressed anyway.

A newcomer appeared in the Wookiee’s shadow. “New blaster, Chewie? Looks nice.”

Chewbacca shook his head and roared, gesturing at Din.

The man who spoke entered the room fully. He abruptly halted when he caught sight of Din. He was tall with brown hair, roguishly handsome, and dressed in a black boots with a vest over his white shirt. He was also pointing Din’s blaster straight at its owner. After a brief, tense moment, he relaxed, lowering the weapon before returning it to the Wookiee. “For a second there, I thought you were someone else.”

Din put the pieces together. A humanoid male who ran with a Wookiee and had run-ins with Mandalorian bounty hunters? “Han Solo.”

Solo crossed his arms over his chest and smirked, nudging Chewbacca with his elbow. “Whatever the bounty on me is, my wife will pay triple. No, _quadruple.”_

“Not interested,” Din said to mollify him, holding up his gloved palm in a gesture of peace. 

Luke had put down the journal and come to stand protectively between Din and Solo. Din had barely noticed him move, except for the faint tingle over his skin that he was beginning to associate with the Jedi’s nearby presence. “How come you’ve heard of Han of all people, but you hadn’t heard of me?”

Din wasn’t sure how to respond, but Solo said. “Don’t pout, kid. He’s obviously more familiar with reprobates and scuzzballs who leave trails of bounty pucks parsecs-wide.”

Din shrugged. That was...not an inaccurate assessment of his knowledge base. 

_“Anyway,”_ Luke emphasized, getting to the introductions, however unnecessary. “Han, Din Djarin. Din, Han. And please don’t try to collect on my brother-in-law’s bounty.”

“Understood,” Din acknowledged. Maybe he should say something to Luke about introducing him to everyone as _Din Djarin._ But what exactly would he say? That it was strange to hear people referring to him by his own name? If it sounded that ridiculous in own head, he couldn't imagine how ridiculous it would sound aloud. 

Solo strode further into the apartment and plopped down on the sofa as if he’d done so hundreds of times. Maybe he had. Chewbacca settled on a stool at the kitchen counter. Still in Din’s arms, Grogu reached for the Wookiee, so Din placed him on the counter to let him interact at eye-level.

“So, what’s on the agenda today, kid?” Solo asked. 

It was the second time he’d called Luke ‘kid.’ The moniker didn’t feel right to Din. Luke was a Jedi Master and a fearsome warrior. Of course, he didn’t look fearsome just now. This morning, he had swapped out the black flightsuit and Jedi robes for form-fitting cream-colored leggings and a white crossover tunic. His expression was not a Jedi mask of indifference but something much softer. Even his hair looked soft. He looked...at ease and comfortable. And why wouldn’t he be? He was in his own home with his friends. Maybe he only brought out the intense Jedi schtick when he had to? He didn’t even look _that_ much younger than Solo—especially his eyes, which seemed to see and know _everything—_ but then Din didn’t know the history between the two men. 

“Shouldn’t you be asking Leia that? I thought you were going to help her with that Bakura treaty.”

“And here I thought that since Mando was around, you’d actually take a break from the Jedi stuff and come do a quick, uh, errand with me and Chewie.”

“A quick errand?” Luke repeated dubiously.

“That’s what I said.”

“I didn’t invite Din here to ditch him and Grogu at the first opportunity.”

Luke was leaning against the kitchen counter. He Force-pushed a piece of orange fruit towards Grogu through the air. As Grogu reached out to grab it with greedy hands, Chewbacca swiped it from overhead and popped it into his mouth. 

Grogu squealed in amusement, and Luke sent another piece through the air. Chewbacca snagged it again, making Grogu coo and shake his hands. 

The third time, when Chewbacca extended his arm to take the morsel, Grogu’s eyes narrowed and he appeared to concentrate really hard. The piece of fruit shot through the air directly to his small hand. He shoved it into his mouth and chewed happily. 

Din wanted to jump up and offer Grogu praise for exercising his abilities, but he felt self-conscious about doing so in front of Luke. Was this display of power routine now? 

Yet when Grogu’s gaze swept from Luke to him, and his green head tilted, seeking a reaction, Din couldn’t help walking over and gently squeezing one of his hands. “Nicely done, Grogu,” he commended. 

Chewbacca roared in agreement, petting Grogu’s head with his massive hand. The kid positively basked under the positive attention.

Even Luke was smiling, as Din glanced over to him. And then Din went nearly cross-eyed as another piece of the orange fruit came to hover right in front of him. He plucked it out of the air and stared at it in his palm. Telekinesis was _weird._ He offered the fruit to Grogu, who consumed it readily and gave Din a delighted coo in return.

Din felt a sense of joy suddenly bubble up inside him and threaten to escape in a laugh. He’d _missed_ this. He’d missed spending time with Grogu, watching him learn and grow. Watching him smile and look up at Din like Din was his whole world. He could spend the whole day like this, just hanging around the apartment with these kind strangers and his kid, playing pass-the-fruit with a mysterious Force magic that Din had seen _crush_ a Dark Trooper into scrap metal. That was a good use for the mystical energy, but so was _this._

He turned his head and observed that Luke was still smiling watching _him,_ not Grogu. For some reason, that made Din feel both shy and powerful at the same time, that he could bring out that contented look on the Jedi’s face. Din shook out his limbs, and he attributed the buzz under his skin to the fact that he hadn’t eaten yet. 

As if he’d said the thought aloud, Luke pushed an empty plate towards him—this time with his hand, not the Force. “Why don’t you make a plate and take it into my room? You can get ready for the day, too, whatever you need.”

Din nodded. Last night, he’d slept in Grogu’s room, which didn’t have its own refresher. It also didn’t have a bed that was meant to fit a full-sized human, but he’d made do, just happy to get to offer himself as a human pillow for Grogu. Now, as he put together a plate of fruits, cheese, and pastries, he clarified, “You don’t have to stay here, if you have things you need or want to do. I can watch Grogu and translate the Mando’a text while you’re out.”

Luke clasped his hands together on the counter and kept his gaze steady. Din swore he could _feel_ Luke’s eyes on him. “I appreciate that, but you’re my guest, and I have no intention of leaving you to do all the work while I go off cavorting with Han.”

“So bring him,” Solo suggested. “We can leave the kid with Chewie. Right, pal?”

Chewbacca gave an affirmative rumble. 

“We do actually have work to do,” Luke countered. “The artifacts aren’t _just_ a pretense to lure Din here. They could be important to the New Republic. And Mandalore,” he added.

Solo waved his hand dismissively. “Please, if this was official business, you wouldn’t have stashed him in your own quarters.” Solo gave Din a once-over. “We do have guest rooms, by the way. Hundreds of them.”

Din looked at Luke again, who suddenly seemed fascinated by his own hands. Din felt a mild embarrassment flood his own veins at the confirmation that Luke was letting him stay here to be closer to Grogu. Din hadn’t meant to invade the Jedi’s space. 

“You’ve got time,” Solo continued. “It’s just one little errand. And I know it’ll get done safely and quickly with Mandalorian and a _master_ of the Jedi arts at my side.”

“Safely under Leia’s radar, you mean,” Luke teased, and Din could see that he was giving in. Din filed away the information for later that the Jedi responded well to a little flattery. “All right, all right. Din, is this okay with you?”

“Yes,” Din agreed. He owed Luke a great deal, between rescuing them on the cruiser, training Grogu, and, most recently, letting Din impose on his ship and his home. Din would help in any way he could, even if it meant helping Luke’s brother-in-law in what was surely going to be some shady business deal, given his reputation in the Outer Rim bounty-hunting circles. “Give me five minutes.” 

“Take twenty,” Solo suggested, settling languidly against the sofa cushions. “I know how long it takes to get that armor off and back on if you’re going to have a quick sonic.”

As Din took his plate of food to Luke’s room, Luke asked the question Din was wondering too, “And how do you know how long it takes to get the armor off and on?”

“Well, there was this Mando I met on Dantooine. She was looking to cash in on my bounty, right? But then I laid on the charm and…”

Din shut the door. He did not have any need to hear about Solo’s... _exploits_ with some strange Mandalorian. To be honest, he wished Luke was right behind him so he could close the door so _neither_ of them could hear. As he removed his helmet, he thought of how between Bo-Katan’s clan and Fett, he’d come to learn that not all Mandalorians followed the same path as his tribe. But he couldn’t picture himself getting...intimate with a bounty. He couldn’t picture removing his armor to let a beautiful stranger touch him the way Solo was implying. On the rare occasion when he’d indulged, the armor stayed _on._ There was vulnerability, and there was _vulnerability._ A little of the former was necessary to get the, ah, intended results, but the latter…Din had never stripped completely bare, helmet to toe, in front of another. Just the thought of doing so made him edgy. But then, he hadn’t felt uncomfortable yesterday with his helmet off in front of Luke... 

Din slid down to the floor from where he’d been sitting on the edge of the bed, realizing he was going to get crumbs on Luke’s bedsheets.

He tried the orange fruit that Grogu had liked. Din made a face. _Yuck._ It was much too sweet for his palate. He tried one of the pastries next. He chewed. And chewed. And swallowed. Was the dough...fried? And glazed? It was _sickeningly_ sweet. Din just ate the cheese and set about removing his armor to use the refresher. 

A short time later, Din emerged from Luke’s room, clean and ready to go on Solo’s errand. Grogu was standing on the sofa, hands waving in the air as he cooed and chirped at Chewbacca, who’d sat down next to Solo. 

Luke had, regrettably, donned his Jedi robes. But the hood was down, and his expression was friendly. “Are we taking the Falcon?”

“No,” Han grumbled, standing up and stretching. “She’s a little less than discreet these days. I’ve got a freighter docked.”

“Are we going offworld?” Din asked. He hoped not.

“Nah, but it might feel that way. We’re droppin’ surface level.” 

Din anticipated a back-alley street deal, maybe spice. He reholstered his blaster, though he left the spear in Grogu’s room. 

As Din walked with Solo and Luke to the waiting ship, he noticed lingering glances from people in the lobby that led to a different landing pad than yesterday. Luke and Solo were ignoring the stares, so Din tried to do the same. 

But his vision was impaired by a sudden flash of light, and his visor overcompensated in its attempt to automatically adjust to the change. He almost stumbled, reminded of the bright flares he’d used to get close to Fennec Shand when she’d had the high ground on Tatooine.

Luke caught his elbow, steadying him. 

Din knew the flashes of lights were holos being taken again. He thought about how Luke had told him the _paparazzi_ followed him everywhere and how he’d never gotten used to it. Din had the urge to shield Luke from the unwanted attention. He maneuvered his body slightly so that Luke was in front of him. Din’s broad back blocked most of the Jedi’s form, except for his billowing cloak. Din was accustomed to blatant gawking wherever he went, especially ever since he’d upgraded his armor, but the holos were a new touch. He didn’t think he’d ever noticed anyone sneaking a holo of him as he entered a cantina to catch his latest bounty. 

The ship that Solo led them to was a small freighter with a generous cargo hold. It was perfect for smuggling. 

Solo sat in the pilot’s seat and Luke in the co-pilot’s seat. Din sat in a passenger seat behind Luke where he could keep an eye on Solo at the controls. 

Solo piloted the ship down, down, down through the endless sea of traffic. They traveled without incident, except for a few choice comments from Luke, including, “That was a stop signal,” and later, “Have you ever heard of yielding?”

“Ever heard the expression: too many captains in the cockpit?” Solo retorted, eyes focused on navigating the complex traffic patterns as they descended for what seemed like miles. 

“I think the saying goes too many _co_ \--never mind. Sorry.”

Din listened to them bicker and offered no commentary of his own, even though he considered himself a rather good pilot, too. 

“The Force is my-copilot,” Luke was saying.

“My usual co-pilot’s better,” Solo contended. “I’ve got Chewie.”

“Fair point,” Luke conceded.

Din chimed in at that. “I’ve had Grogu’s dubious help steering my ship once or twice. That was fun.”

Han laughed. “The little munchkin flew your ship? Talk about yikes.”

“Judge him by his size, do you?” Luke joked, also chuckling. Din puzzled at the strange syntax.

“Not by his _size._ By his age. He’s a _baby.”_

“He’s fifty,” Din informed him. “Fifty-one now.”

“Fifty?!” Han exclaimed. “Well! He’s spry for fifty!”

“Like you wish you were?” Luke goaded.

“Watch it, kid,” Solo threatened, finger coming up in a mock threat. “I know I’ve been through my share of troubles, but don’t tell me you think I look _fifty!”_ Solo made a complaining sound in his throat before jerking the controls hard, causing the ship to careen to a lower altitude, and in turn causing Din to need to grab onto the back of Luke’s seat to stay upright. “I’m going to age _gracefully._ I’m going to be the hottest old man on the Republic payroll, while you’ll still be getting called ‘Jedi boy’ in the headlines with that baby face of yours.”

“I can’t help it that I look young,” Luke pointed out.

“He does, doesn’t he, Mando?” Solo asked, looping Din into the tiff. “Doesn’t he look like a sweet, innocent farmboy?”

 _Yes,_ Din thought, but aloud said, “Only if that farmboy could take out dozens of murderous droids in less than five minutes.”

Solo guffawed. “I didn’t say what he could _do,_ I said what he _looked_ like he could do. Speaking of which,” Solo transitioned, “What about you? About how old are you? You more like farmboy here, or more like me?”

“I’m--”

Luke interrupted, “You don’t have to answer that.”

“--approaching forty faster than I’d like.” Din shrugged at Luke. “It’s fine.”

“Well, then I guess the spryness runs in the family.”

Din pursed his lips. “You know I’m--”

“Lacking in the big green ears department?” Solo filled in for him. “Yeah, I know. Just sayin’. Oh look we’re just about there. Lemme land her.”

Solo brought the freighter to land in exactly the kind of dark, hidden alleyway Din had expected. Luke pulled his Jedi hood up, and Din and Solo readied their blasters. 

“Just follow my lead,” Solo said, leading them out of the ship and down a path between two dilapidated buildings. The air was heavy with fog, and Din had to manually tap the settings on his visor in order to see properly. 

They arrived at a backdoor marked with a symbol Din didn’t recognize. Solo rapped twice on the door. 

A small porthole opened, and a droid snaked out its long neck, the single light of its faceplate shining over the three huddled men in the archway. “State your business,” the droid ordered.

“It’s Han Solo. Maz sent me.”

Din had heard of that name. He thought she was some kind of warlord. Maybe they were picking up weapons rather than spice. But then, would Luke help with that kind of thing? If Luke and Solo went way back, then Din supposed Luke might use his Jedi powers to help out his friend and brother-in-law on dicey jobs. 

The droid’s faceplate retracted, and the porthole shut with a loud clang of metal. 

“Maybe it’s the wrong place,” Solo muttered, sounding defeated, as he ran a hand through his hair. “Or worse, the right place but the wrong time.”

“No,” Luke spoke soberly, quietly, from beneath his hood, “this is it. Wish you had told me though.”

Sure enough, the door creaked ajar. Solo went in first, and Din followed him after checking up and down the alley one more time. They entered the rundown building, which was lit only by a few well-placed techno-torches. The ceiling dripped. The smell was dank and rancid. This place had definitely played host to any number of criminal misdeeds. 

As Din scanned the area, Luke had already whisked past him, moving with silent determination. Din exchanged a nod with Solo before following Luke’s flowing robes further inside the building. 

Luke was fast, and Din almost lost him in the darkness. 

When his night-vision led him to a room at the end of a long hall, Din approached to find Luke crouched in a kneeling position turned away from him. 

“Luke, what--?”

But Din stopped when he took in the scene. Luke was on the floor reaching out towards a group of humanoid _children._ They were small. Dirty. Frightened. There must have been about a dozen of them. And as he stepped into the room, they cowered.

“Shh,” Luke soothed the scared kids. “He’s with me. We’re going to get you to safety.”

Din turned on a light on his helmet so that the kids could see him and Luke better. 

“Are you a Jedi?” one of the kids whispered to Luke. Din’s heart skipped, remembering his own awed intonation of the same question. 

“Yes,” Luke replied. And he started ushering the kids to stand up and follow the light on Din’s helmet. “Follow my Mandalorian friend to safety.” He turned to look at Din, lowering his hood. His eyes were serious, and slightly damp, like Din’s had been when he’d said goodbye to Grogu. 

Luke pointed in the direction from which they’d come, and Din took the cue to lead the gaggle of children back through the hall to the room where Solo was guarding the exit. 

Solo nodded at him when he arrived. “No trouble out here so far. But I don’t want to jinx it.”

No sooner than Solo opened the door did Din hear a blaster shot ring out. Solo ducked back into the building. “I knew it!” he hissed. “We’ve got company!”

“I’ve got it,” Din said, pushing past him, and stepping out into the foggy street. A blaster bolt pinged off his armor, and Din traced it to a source behind a stack of large blocks between him and the ship. Blaster already in hand, he aimed and fired in the direction of the attacker.

His shots hit the blocks, not finding his target.

The attacker fired twice more, each time making good aim...that is, good aim if Din wasn’t wearing beskar. The sharp pings merely slowed him down. But he stormed his way down the alley despite the onslaught, and kicked one of the blocks aside to reveal whoever was using them for cover. 

Hiding place lost, the attacker lunged at him. Din shoved back. They tussled on the cold ground. The attacker tried to punch Din in the face, but the move was followed by a groan, and Din knew what to do. He grabbed the attacker by the shoulders and slammed his helm into the other’s head. 

_Thunk!_

The vicious bite of the kov’nyn knocked the attacker out. Din climbed to his feet. That was a mistake. 

A round of shots rained down on him from a higher vantage point. Most of them were absorbed and reflected by the beskar. One wasn’t. 

_Dank farrik!_

Din’s hand flared with pain, and his blaster dropped. He curled his injured hand to himself and saw blood seep through the glove. It stung terribly. He had to move. He ducked behind the remaining blocks, trying to use them for a poor cover the same way his attacker had. 

“Din!” 

Din heard the cry of his name, and saw a black-robed form leaping over the blocks towards him, green lightsaber activated. The image of Luke charging towards him through the mist with the menacing blade poised to strike left him breathless in a mix of dread and esteem. He swore to himself that he never wanted to be on the business end of that saber. Luke cut a terrifying figure in the shadows. 

Din didn’t get a chance to tell Luke he didn’t _need_ to shield Din with his body, because Luke did so in the blink of an eye. Din ducked obligingly, and he saw Luke’s free hand shoot up, fingers spread, like he was waving to someone. 

The hand suddenly twisted into a fist, and maybe Luke _was_ waving at someone in a way, because Din heard a scream followed by a thud.

Din started to straighten. “Is it--”

“Wait,” Luke said. His voice was eerily calm. 

Din waited, still hunched behind Luke. The bare hand that had made a fist and _done something_ to the other attacker reached for Din. Din nearly flinched, but the hand just rested on his shoulder pauldron. The only movement between them was Luke’s thumb shifting back and forth over Din’s mudhorn signet. 

Mere moments passed, but Din could count them by his racing heartbeats. 

At last, Luke exhaled. “Okay. It’s clear.”

As Din stood up fully, Luke’s hand drifted from his shoulder down his vambrace to his injured hand. “You’re hurt.”

“I’ll be fine,” Din said, retrieving his blaster from where it had been flung out of his grip.

Luke’s eyes, lit green under the glow of his saber, bored into Din’s visor. “Okay,” Luke said again, appearing to take Din’s assurance at face value. “Let’s get them to the ship.”

When they got back to Solo and the kids, Din spotted a body on the floor that hadn’t been there before. It wore pieces of stormtrooper armor. Not a full set, but enough to be identifiable. 

They made it back to the ship with all the kids in tow. Din appraised the roomy cargo hold with fresh eyes. As Solo went to the cockpit, Din helped Luke strap all the children into harnesses that lined a long bench that ran the length of the hold. The kids still seemed scared, but they didn’t fuss or squirm away when Din fastened their safetybelts. Maybe they were used to following orders. The thought made Din’s head hurt. 

The whole time, Luke was chattering in hushed, reassuring tones. He took turns speaking to each child, making little comments about everything being okay, telling them they were in good hands now. He radiated peace and calm. The kids were riveted. Din was a little mesmerized by him, too. 

Din grabbed a medkit from the ship wall and sat down heavily on the bench on the other side of the hold. He took off his mangled glove and opened the kit, finding an antiseptic wipe and using it to clean the blood off his hand. The blaster bolt had ricocheted off the top of his hand, grazing the skin just enough to burn through the top dermal layers. Din was looking through the kit for a bandage to wrap it when Luke was suddenly at his side. 

“May I?” Luke asked, reaching for Din’s hand. 

Din shook his head. “I can watch these kids, so you can go up to the cockpit and sideseat drive Solo.”

Luke’s overly-serious expression broke into a smile. “I’m an ace pilot. Anyone would be lucky to have my flying advice.”

Din snorted. _“Nobody_ likes flying advice, even from an ace pilot with the Force as his co-pilot.”

Luke just grinned, but then his grin turned to exasperation when Din found the bandage and started wrapping his hand himself. “Let me help.”

Din peered at him. “Do you mean with the..” he trailed off and twirled the fingers of his uninjured hand in the air.

“I meant wrap it, actually,” Luke said, sounding dejected and a little embarrassed. “There are some things I’m going to have to learn from _Grogu.”_

“Really?” This was news to Din. The thought of Grogu knowing how to do ‘the magic hand thing’ and Luke _not_ knowing made Din puff up with pride. He smiled behind his helmet and stuck out his hand for Luke to work on it. Luke was laser-focused on securing the bandage around Din’s hand. His attention was so intense that Din felt more points of contact than just between their hands. Din continued speaking, partly just so he didn’t get lost in the sensation. “He’s powerful. Ahsoka Tano said he had training. I never imagined he might know _more_ than a fully trained Jedi Master.”

“Ha. My own training was...unorthodox. There are some gaps.” And then Luke’s voice grew more solemn. “But I promise you, Din, I _can_ help him.” 

“I know you can,” Din affirmed, as Luke tugged the last bit of bandage over his palm and tucked it in. The weight of Luke’s regard still rested heavily on Din, as if someone had poured the whole Dune Sea into his bones. “I’ve never doubted that.”

“I’m glad.”

Din was torn between the desire to yank his hand back or to lift it to cup Luke’s cheek. 

Solo’s call from the cockpit was a welcome distraction. “Everybody good back there? We’re getting closer to the upshoot route.”

“We’re good,” Luke called back. “I’m coming.” He gave Din’s fingers a light squeeze, then retreated to the cockpit. 

Din was left staring at the kids they had rescued. They were staring right back at him. 

“Mandalorian, sir,” one of the kids started, “are you okay?”

Din held up his hand to show the bandage. “Yeah, I’m all patched up. It takes a lot more than a blaster to the hand to take down a Mandalorian. This is the way.”

Some of the kids giggled. It was as if Din’s words had broken the ice. He was immediately peppered with questions.

“Is that real beskar? Is it true nothing can get through it?”

“Does your helmet have night vision?”

“Does it have laser targeting?”

“Do you have those tiny rockets that shoot everywhere at once?”

“Can you fly?”

Din spent the rest of the flight answering their curious questions. He almost missed the shadow moving in the doorway where Luke had come to check in on him. 

Eventually, Din felt that ship land. Solo came back to help in the cargo hold. They got the kids off the ship and into the much needed care of medics. After the kids were out of earshot, Solo said, “Chewie and I arranged it. Got a tip from Maz and followed up.” 

Which explained everything and nothing. Grogu might have been hunted for his Jedi blood, but maybe he wasn’t the only child the Imps were recruiting.

“It could be them,” Luke said, appearing behind Din and seemingly echoing his own thoughts on the matter. “It could be they’re recruiting again.” 

“Whoever’s organizing it, it’s not recruiting. It’s _conscripting,”_ Solo responded darkly.

“I think,” Luke said, “this isn’t an errand to keep from Leia.”

“Agreed. She’s had back to back meetings all day, but I’ll worm my way into her datebook.” 

“I’m sure you’ll have no trouble with that,” Luke said, and the mood was lightened. 

Solo then nodded to Din. “Thanks back there. Hope you’re not too banged up under that fancy armor of yours.”

“I’m fine,” Din said, wondering how many times and how many people he’d have to reassure the same. 

After Solo departed ahead of them, Din and Luke walked companionably across the landing pad. For once, it was quiet. “My impression of your friend was wrong,” Din admitted. “I thought he was taking us on a smuggling run.”

Luke gave a low chuckle. “His smuggling days are pretty far behind him. At least as far as I know.”

“But you don’t know everything, right?” Din couldn’t help but jibe, thinking of how Luke didn’t know how to use the Force to heal. 

“I _definitely_ do not know everything,” Luke said, but his tone was smug.

Din smiled at the contradiction. He didn’t resist when Luke pulled his bandaged hand up to inspect it. 

“If you’re feeling brave, I wouldn’t mind the practice.”

“I’m always brave,” Din quipped. “But we should probably wait until we’re back at your apartment. If you’re anything like Grogu, you might get woozy and pass out after you fix my hand. And I don’t think you want holos of me carrying you over my shoulder through the hallways.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Luke mused, not clarifying whether he meant he didn’t know if he’d pass out or if he didn’t mind the thought of being carried by Din.

Din briefly panicked when they got back to Luke’s apartment and neither Chewbacca nor Grogu were anywhere to be found. But Luke assured him they had joined Solo in order for Chewbacca to explain to New Republic authorities more about where the tip about the children had come from. 

That left Din and Luke sitting on the sofa so that Luke could try healing his hand. 

Luke’s hands were warm around Din’s, and his blue eyes were hyperfocused. “Any tips?” Luke prompted. 

Din couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re asking _me?”_

“Hmm.” And then Luke quieted and stilled his hands. His breathing was even and slow, and he closed his eyes.

Din watched, fascinated. 

His hand began to warm from something more intense than body heat. He felt a pulling sensation, like getting stitches. Then, the threading feeling dissipated, replaced by numbness, an acute absence of pain. 

Luke’s eyes opened, and he released Din’s hand. “I’m not sure I did that right,” he admitted, “I might have done it too literally. I _encouraged_ the cells to knit themselves back together. But let’s see. May I?” Luke’s fingers twisted at the bandage.

Din just shook his head, indicating it was obvious Luke had his consent to look at his own handiwork. 

Luke unwrapped the bandage and turned Din’s palm facedown. Din was not surprised to see his skin was healed over. The redness and swelling was gone, replaced by smooth, healthy skin. Luke’s thumb rubbed over the place where the injury used to be. “Well, I didn’t pass out.”

Din had to cough to find his voice. “Good job.”

Luke smiled. “Thanks.”

Din just sat there dumbly, hand being held by Luke, somewhat hoping for an interruption of any kind, like Grogu bursting in or Solo knocking on the door. But none was forthcoming. For Luke’s part, the Jedi just seemed to be completely at ease, inspecting Din’s hand and humming to himself. Din couldn’t quite bring himself to do something to break the spell of tranquility that thrummed between them. 

Luke was the first to move, settling his feet underneath himself and leaning slightly against the back of the sofa. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to meditate on the healing work I just did, to make sure I’ve really learned it and can do it again.”

Din nodded, not sure why Luke was asking him permission to do his Jedi thing. Then Din realized Luke meant he was going to do it right now _while holding Din’s hand._

Din stayed stock-still as Luke’s eyelashes fluttered closed. The Jedi looked like he was taking a quick nap rather than uncovering the mystical enigmas of the Force. Maybe the healing had worn him out after all. Maybe Din should close his eyes, too. He was comfortable, and he knew Grogu was nearby and in safe company. Din didn’t quite fall asleep, but he rested and conducted his own meditations about the Jedi next to him. 


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The Cockpit Chronicles: Skywalker’s Mystery Lover Revealed. Just a Lift? Or is Love in the Atmosphere? Jedi Hero Finds Knight in Shining Beskar. Power Couple: The Mandalorian and the Master Jedi._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dialogue heavy but still has an action scene. Honestly I've never written Din with so much dialogue before, but he won't shut up in this story. Luke doesn't mind. Also... _booty hunting_ is a phrase that I typed today. Enjoy.

Din was roused from his subdued thinking by the rumbling of his stomach. 

Next to him, Luke’s lips curled up in a smile, though his eyes remained closed. “Feel free to raid the kitchen.”

Din slowly extracted himself from the sofa and from the pleasant nearness of Luke’s body beside him. He began opening cabinets. He found some soup packets. “Should I make you something, too?”

“I could eat.”

Din grabbed two soup packets and found two bowls and two spoons. Once the soup was hydrated and heated, he set the steaming bowls side by side on the counter. “Come eat while it’s hot,” he suggested. Din often opted for soup because he could drink it by just lifting his helmet above his chin. But there was no reason to do that now. Din had already removed his helmet in front of others and put it back on. It was...a done thing. He put his hands on his helmet and released it with a pop and hiss of air.

“I don’t mind waiting,” Luke said from across the room. “I can reheat it.”

Din squinted. _Don’t overthink this,_ he wanted to say. Or maybe what he really wanted to say was, _don’t make_ me _overthink this._ Although he still wore his helmet around others so far, he wasn’t ready to analyze why he was unbothered taking it off in Luke’s presence. The easy answer was that Luke already knew his face. Din knew it wasn’t so simple, though. Instead of addressing any of that, however, Din just pretended to threaten him, “Are you going to make me drag you over here like one of my bounties?” 

“You think you could?”

And when Din glanced over to him, Luke’s eyes were still closed. But he was smiling again. 

“I think I could,” Din said, rising to the challenge.

“Hm,” Luke said. 

Finally, the Jedi sidled up to the kitchen counter and sat next to Din in front of his own bowl. 

The soup smelled okay. It was meatless and red with a variety of chopped vegetables. Din picked up his spoon and tasted it. Bland. Very, very bland. But unlikely the overly sweet foods, this was something he could rectify. He reached into one of the small pouches on his utility belt and retrieved a small red and black bottle with Mando’a script on the homemade label. He was aware that Luke was peeking at what he was doing out of his peripheral vision. Din popped the top and poured a few drops of the bottle’s contents into his soup. 

“Medication? Or poison-detector?” Luke guessed.

“Flavor,” Din corrected, stirring it in. “It adds heat.”

Luke turned his head to look at Din fully. He looked amused. “You...carry hot sauce around?”

Din shrugged around a spoonful of soup, which actually had _taste_ now. He swallowed, enjoying the slight burn of the liquid down his throat. “I carry a lot of things around.”

They both sipped at their soups. 

Luke’s lack of pestering made Din want to elaborate. “My covert made this particular blend. Since the _Crest_ got blown up by Imps, it’s the last of my stores.”

“I’m sorry,” Luke offered. “Can you find your covert again?”

“What’s left of it after they exposed themselves to the Imps to save me and Grogu? I could. But I’m not sure I should yet.” Din shook his head slightly. “It’s complicated.”

Luke didn’t press. 

Again, Din felt himself wanting to say more. “I suppose I’ll seek them out eventually, if I’m going to find other Mandalorians. But I don’t know how they’ll react, since I abandoned the Way when I removed my helmet.”

“On the cruiser.” Luke’s spoon twirled in the soup without bringing any to his lips. “When you said goodbye to Grogu. If I had known--”

But Din made a negative sound. “I did it before that. On Morak, I disguised myself as a trooper to get the coordinates to Gideon’s ship where Grogu was being held. But I had to take off the helmet for a face scanner. And then an officer started questioning me. It was only a few minutes, but that...was that.”

Luke tilted his head to look at Din again. “Grogu doesn’t know that happened.”

“I didn’t want to worry him. We didn’t have enough time for me to explain. I didn’t want the last…” Din trailed off and put his spoon down. “I wanted to see him without the helmet. I wanted him to see me. If it had been up to me, that _would_ have been the first time. I couldn’t adopt him as mine, couldn’t say the words to make it so, but I would have, and we would have...had that.”

Luke sighed, and his regret was palpable. “I should have--”

“It’s fine,” Din interrupted. “You saved our lives. I don’t know what would have happened with those Dark Troopers if you hadn’t arrived when you did. Even with the spear and the Darksaber, they were”-- _a custom-made terror threat straight out of my childhood nightmares--_ “formidable. Gideon seemed sure we were about to be slaughtered.”

“Still,” Luke insisted, “I should have said more. I should have _asked_ more. I shouldn’t have just taken Grogu and ran.”

“You didn’t know me. You didn’t know any of us. You just saw a bunch of dangerous people in armor, one of them standing between you and a Jedi foundling. All things considered, I was relieved you powered down the saber at all. The first Jedi I met didn’t.”

“Who?”

“Ahsoka Tano. Luckily, beskar holds up under the slash of a lightsaber. She got in a few good licks before I caught my breath enough to tell her that Bo-Katan had sent me.” 

Luke seemed to consider everything as he swallowed another mouthful of soup, then said, “Din, I think you should tell Grogu about Morak. He’s wondered…he’s worried he, uh, _influenced_ you to take off your helmet on the cruiser. I told him it wasn’t likely, that I sensed your desire to see him without it was equally strong. He’d wanted to see you so badly. And you might have taken it off for the first time _for_ him, but it’s clear he didn’t _make_ you. He wasn’t even there on Morak.” 

“The decision was mine and mine alone,” Din assured. “Thank you for telling me that. I’ll talk to him.” He smiled wistfully. “I used to think that he hardly understood anything I was saying, and that I was just rambling to a baby. But then Ahsoka said he understood more than I realized.”

“He understands a lot,” Luke confirmed. “But he often is attuned to the emotion of what’s being said, more so than the specific words. His language processing has potential to be very advanced. Master Yoda, my teacher who was his same species, knew hundreds of languages.”

“Impressive.”

Luke mumbled something that sounded like ‘so’r’yu’ around a mouthful of soup. 

“What was that?”

“Nothing. So what else do you have in those pouches?” Luke asked, changing the subject.

“That’s a very personal question,” Din told him without inflection.

“It is? Sorry again.” Luke looked abashed. It was...cute. Din didn’t know why he enjoyed teasing him so much.

“I’m joking,” he clarified, but then after another spoonful of soup added, “Mostly.” 

Luke still had his spoon in his mouth when he turned to glare at Din in mock indignation. And then it was the Sofa Situation all over again. Din got lost just staring at Luke with his gentle, easy presence. Luke made Din feel like he didn’t have to keep his guard up. It was as if Luke already knew just enough about Din that he could just skip over the awkward getting-to-know-you stage and skip ahead to...this. Whatever this was.

Din hid his smile in his spoon. 

Or, at least, he tried.

They finished their meals in companionable silence. 

Luke was putting away the bowls when the door pinged. Din put his helmet back on.

“Hey, Artoo,” Luke greeted when the astromech R2-unit rolled in. The droid made a series of beeps and whirs. “Oh good. Din, Leia has a minute. She wants to meet you and get our take on what happened this morning. And we can pick up Grogu.”

“Lead the way.”

Luke put on his Jedi robes on their way out the door. 

Din made sure he had his jetpack and satchel. “Is it far?”

“No. It’s just across the skybridge connecting this building to the senate building with her office. We’ll walk.”

The droid beeped something questioning, and Luke patted the droid like one would pat a pet or a friend. “Thanks, Artoo. And I’ll let Threepio now.”

*********

As they walked down the corridor, Din ventured, “You really like that droid, huh?”

“Artoo is a friend,” Luke replied, keeping their pace brisk. 

“Was it listening in during the whole time we talked on the flight from Concordia?” Din asked.

“Not with malicious intent,” Luke said, which wasn’t a no. “He’s always monitoring.”

“Like how you’re monitoring me?” And Din didn’t mean for it to sound petulant, but he wondered just how much Luke was picking up through the Force. He didn’t _mind_ per se, but he was still confused about the nature of the feelings and thoughts Luke was gleaning from him. 

Luke stopped walking and faced Din. His blue eyes were serious, and his flaxen hair was framed by the bright light of the window behind him. “I haven’t been doing that since we first left Concordia. Well, not actively,” he amended, crinkling his brow. “Oh, I did it when you got hurt to make sure you were okay. And when Force healing you, for the same purpose.” Luke exhaled and placed a hand on Din’s arm between his shoulder pauldron and his vambrace. “Let me start over. Like I said before, I’m not trying to pry, but I am always attuned to the Force. And your presence is just...very bright. Very close. And there’s a connection that sort of, hm, I might say _echoes_ of the training bond I have with Grogu.”

Din wanted to know more about the training bond, but he found himself stuck on ‘bright’ and ‘close.’ What did that even mean? But even without the Force, he could tell that Luke was concerned about what Din thought of his mind being an open comm channel. Wanting to give reassurance that even if he didn’t understand, he was okay with it, Din reached out to place his other hand on Luke’s shoulder, completing the circle. “I’m not complaining. It obviously comes naturally to you. You don’t have to change who you are around me. I knew you were a _jetii sorcerer_ when I agreed to follow you here.”

“You knew what I was, but you didn’t know what it’d actually be like. Din, even _I_ didn’t know anything about Jedi until I was thrown right into the thick of it. I don’t want to offend you. I’m usually better at keeping my distance, physically _and_ mentally.” 

And something about that admission made Din feel good. It was nice to know that the pull he was feeling towards Luke was reciprocated. Din hesitated to call it attraction, but he couldn’t deny the surprising closeness developing so quickly between them. 

But then Luke said, “I’m going to blame my heightened sensitivity to you on Grogu. It’s the simplest explanation.”

Din felt a little like a ship whose thrusters just gave out. He wanted to ask whether whatever was going on between them was what a Jedi training bond felt like. But if the answer was yes, and whatever he was sensing was just a remnant of Grogu’s feelings for him being reflected back at him through Luke, then he didn’t really want to hear it. Instead, he just nodded and separated from Luke. 

Luke gave a weak smile, then continued leading them towards the skybridge. It was open to the elements, with glass railing on both sides to protect pedestrians from falling. It wasn’t overly crowded, but Din saw many beings taking notice of Luke and himself. He wondered which was the rarer sight on Coruscant: a Jedi or a Mandalorian. 

Just as Luke was politely wishing the Force be with a stranger who had approached him, Luke yelled, “Down! Everyone down!”

Din dropped to a crouch immediately, just in time to see a grappling line shoot out of the sky. It wrapped around Luke, robes and all, trapping his hands at the sides. 

Din unsheathed his wrist blade, intending to slice through the Jedi’s bindings, but blaster bolts began striking his armor, slowing his movements. He searched for the source, and was shocked to see someone dressed in red and yellow Mandalorian armor flying above the skybridge with a jetpack, twin blasters aimed right at him. 

There was nowhere to dive for cover on the open skybridge, so Din tried to keep the other Mandalorian’s attention on him as Luke instructed the other pedestrians to run out of the way. Din saw Luke concentrating, and it seemed he used the Force to manipulate the air to _sweep_ a half-dozen people off the main part of the bridge to one side for safety, leaving only Din and Luke in the vulnerable middle section. 

Din was slightly irritated that Luke was using his Jedi powers to protect other people before freeing himself from the grappling line. Din rose up in the Rising Phoenix to provide cover, flying between Luke and their attacker. 

The other Mandalorian dove down and under the skybridge. Din knew they’d pop up on the other side, blasters firing. He remained hovering above the skybridge, his own blaster aimed and ready.

“Din!” Luke prompted. 

Din assessed the situation quickly. Without hesitation, he unclipped the Darksaber hilt and tossed it through the air towards Luke. The toss went wide as Luke was already moving towards the edge of the skybridge, but Luke used the Force to catch it. 

The dark blade activated in Luke’s grasp with a hiss, and he sliced through his bindings, freeing himself. He immediately swung the saber in a protective arc. The bleeding black blade blocked the incoming blaster bolts hurled as the unknown Mandalorian rose up from under the skybridge. 

Din was returning fire rapidly. But his blasts and the ones ricocheting off the saber Luke wielded just pinged off the stranger’s beskar. 

No one making any shots, the unknown Mandalorian twisted in the air and began to speed away.

Din launched himself in pursuit.

His helmet’s receiver picked up Luke’s shout for him to wait, but it was already faint as he shot through the air. 

He caught sight of the Mandalorian diving into a complex-looking traffic pattern. 

Din followed.

If he thought flying through Coruscant traffic in a freighter was difficult, flying with just his jetpack felt like gambling with his life. Speeders and ships raced past him in all directions, and he relied on his helmet’s trajectory-tracking to chase his quarry.

But the blip was getting further away. 

He slowed his speed to tap his helmet twice, hoping to pick up the signal again, and was nearly broadsided by a yellow speeder. The honking was drowning out all other sounds.

 _Osik._ He needed to get out of the ‘road.’

He’d lost his target. 

With a frustrated curse, Din flew out of the traffic zone. Several alarms started screaming around him. 

_Whrrrr. Whrrrr._

_“You are off course. Reverse and Return. You are off course. Reverse and Return.”_

The safety protocol must be reading him as a speeder of some sort. He didn’t want to attract the attention of any New Republic officers. With a smack to his vambrace controls, Din cut the engines to his jetpack and dropped several feet to land with a loud thud on the nearest pedestrian walkway. He landed so heavily that he dropped to one knee, one hand reaching out to brace himself. He breathed heavily. People were staring at him. 

Din stood up and brushed his cape back. He ignored the stares as he reholstered his blaster. He wasn’t sure how far he’d gone from the skybridge. He could be in a completely different part of the capital. And he’d failed to capture the assailant. 

Din walked up to a group of purple beings clad in gowns as gold as their beaks. They looked terrified of him, but he spoke softly, “Can you give me directions back to the senate building? I’m supposed to meet someone there.”

One of the purple beings pointed a wing diagonally up towards the south. 

“Thanks.”

“Wait,” the shortest of the purple beings said. “Are you the Mandalorian?”

“I’m _a_ Mandalorian,” Din said, confused. 

“Are you _this_ one?” the small being asked, thrusting a datapad in front of him with a holo and some pink hearts scrolling across it. “Are you the one who’s been _talking to_ Luke Skywalker?”

Din glanced at the datapad and, sure enough, it had a holo of him walking with Luke on the launchpad towards Han’s freighter. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Woah,” the being said, and the group of them started to trill. The high-pitched sounds of their combined trilling nearly shorted out his helmet’s audio system. They all started speaking Basic at the same time.

“What’s it like--”

“Are you two really--”

“Is he--”

“I’m sorry, I must be going,” Din cut them all off. “Thank you for the directions.” And then he was forced to blink as he was nearly blinded by the flash of a holo being taken. _Really?_ Exasperated, he turned and launched himself off the walkway, activating his jetpack and rising in the direction to which he’d been pointed.

The distance wasn’t great, but it was slow-going because Din didn’t want to get clocked by a speeder. He recognized the senate building as he approached. He landed just outside its doors. 

*********

Grogu came running out towards him on the steps. Luke was right behind him. 

“Batu!” Grogu complained as Din scooped him up. 

“I’m fine, pal,” he promised, as the kid buried his face in Din’s cowl. To Luke he said regretfully, “I lost the attacker. I tried to track them, but there was too much interference on the frequency channel. And way too much traffic.”

Luke’s arms were folded across his chest. “Like Grogu here, I’m just glad you’re alright.”

“As am I,” a new voice said. Though short in stature, the woman’s voice was strong and confident, instantly reminding Din of Bo-Katan. But the smile and warmth on her beautiful face was much more reminiscent of Luke. 

“Din, meet my sister, General and First Advisor to the Prime Minister, Leia Organa Solo. Leia, this is Din Djarin.”

"General." Din bowed his head, and the woman did the same, displaying a complex set of braids on her head.

“Call me Leia,” she invited. She gestured for them to follow her into the senate building. Her jumpsuit had a cape, which shimmered behind her. “I’m sorry your visit here has not gone according to plan,” Leia apologized as they walked through the towering halls that were full of different beings milling about. “I know Luke brought you here to see your son and look at some old artifacts. And then my husband roped you into breaking up an imperial child-smuggling ring, and then you had to defend yourself against one of your own kind. Not to mention the headlines! Let's just say, this isn’t the welcome we had in mind for the new Mand’alor.”'

“I haven’t officially taken that title,” Din said quickly, jostling his hold on Grogu, who was getting restless. 

Leia smiled as she ushered the four of them into an opulent office and closed the door behind them. “But that’s what you intend, isn’t it?” As she settled onto a chair, she glanced across at Din’s waist. “That’s why you carry the...oh. Where is--?”

“Ah,” Luke said sheepishly, pressing the hilt of the Darksaber into Din’s hand. 

Din accepted it and clipped it back to his belt. 

Leia offered no comment, but she looked back and forth between them pensively. 

Din took the proffered seat and placed Grogu on the floor to let him roam. Grogu toddled straight for Leia, who picked him up and sat him on her lap. Din was again amazed how many people Grogu had grown fond of in such a seemingly short timespan. But then, maybe it wouldn’t have been true with just any strangers. Maybe it was something about the Skywalkers and their friends. Even Din himself was warming up to Luke faster than he’d warmed up to...well...anyone. 

“So who attacked you?” Leia inquired. She nodded towards Luke, who was standing at the window, looking out at the busy Coruscant sky. “Luke said he didn’t know the Mandalorian.”

“I don’t know either,” Din admitted. “They wore the armor. Maybe they were a merc hired by the Empire? Retaliation for interfering with their plans for those kids?”

Leia pursed her lips. “Or it could be wholly unrelated. It’s too early in the investigation to tell. We aren’t even sure which one of you was the primary target, or if it was both you.”

Din threw a glance at Luke, who seemed very far away where he stood at the window with his hands linked behind his back. 

Leia continued, “Maybe it was an assassination attempt on _you._ Or a grudge match. You’ve hardly been here two days and you’re already making a lot of waves.”

“I am?” Din asked. This was the first he’d heard of it. 

“Luke,” Leia said slowly. “ _Pl_ _ease_ tell me you’re keeping Din appraised of the news.”

Luke didn’t turn around. “I wouldn’t elevate it by calling it _news._ It’s just tabloids.”

“Luke,” she reproached. Her smile thinned. She pushed a datapad across the low table to Din. “These are all from _before_ today. I’m sure what happened on the skybridge will feed the media monster all week.”

Din picked the datapad up. He scanned the scrolling text and curated holos that flashed across the screen. His eyebrows furrowed behind his helm, even as his heart started pounding. “Ancient enemies in love?” he repeated aloud. Beneath the flashing headline was a collection of still and animated holos of him and Luke. One series of images showed them disembarking the X-Wing, including an zoomed-in shot of him wearing Luke’s Jedi robes with a flash of silver beskar beneath the hood, circled and highlighted, followed by images of him and Luke walking side by side when they’d headed to Han’s ship. _The Cockpit Chronicles: Skywalker’s Mystery Lover Revealed._

Other headlines echoed the same idea: 

_Just a Lift? Or is Love in the Atmosphere?_

_Jedi Hero Finds Knight in Shining Beskar._

_Power Couple: The Mandalorian and the Master Jedi._

Another animated headline morphed into a cropped heart-shape image of him and Luke, the angle of the shot making it look like they were very close. _The Jedi’s Mando._

There was even a grainy holo of Luke protecting Din in the alley down on the lower levels, perhaps taken from a security cam. _Hands Off My Mando_ , the caption read.

Solo wasn’t spared. One headline read: _Veto Power: Will Oft-Bountied Brother-in-Law Approve the Match?_

Din paused to glance at Luke. Luke wasn’t looking at him. He was looking determinedly out the window. 

Din swiped through a few more articles. The headlines devolved from there. 

_Jedis and Mandos Make-Up...by Making Out?_

_Booty Hunting?_

_Beskar at the Bedside - 10 Things that Make Mandos Good in the Sack._

_Monks No More? The Jedi’s Secret Lover._

_Can He Read My Mind? Why a Jedi Would be a Good Lover._

Despite Luke’s warnings about the tabloids, Din was still taken aback. Din liked to think he had a good sense of humor and humility, but the coverage was verging on appalling. The strange parading of their supposed romantic relationship left him feeling rather deflated, like wasting the last rifle shot on someone other than the intended target. And then he felt chagrined at his own warring emotions of curiosity, hilarity, and disappointment. 

Leia retrieved the datapad and interpreted his silence as censure. “The silver lining is that you being the new Mand’alor isn’t common knowledge yet.” 

That brought Din up short. “Good, because I’m _not_ the Mand’alor.”

Leia placed Grogu down on the floor next to her, and he started gnawing on the datapad. “You’re restoring your planet. You’re seeking out other Mandalorians. And you’re carrying the Darksaber. I apologize for any presumptions, but that certainly gives the appearance that you are your people’s new leader.”

It was a logical conclusion, but Din remained tense. “It’s not been decided yet.”  
  
“And how does such a decision get made?”

“The same way everything is decided on Mandalore: by force.” Din pried the datapad out of Grogu’s mouth and wiped the slobber off with the end of his cape. “I keep hoping Bo-Katan loses her patience with me so I can let her beat me up and take back this cursed glowstick.”

Leia sat upright. “I didn’t realize your feelings on the matter were so...”

“Mixed?” Din finished for her, voice tight. He steadied himself by stroking Grogu’s ears. “The truth is, I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet. I didn’t realize this was going to be a formal, political visit. I just came to see Grogu. If Luke and Grogu had been on some backwater skug hole, then that’s where I’d be.”

“I could arrange that,” Luke piped up. He sounded eager about it. 

“Oh, I see how it is,” Leia said, voice lightening. “You’re just like him, aren’t you? You want to avoid the limelight.”

“Luke, the only Jedi Master in the galaxy? The destroyer of the Death Stars, plural, harbinger of the Empire’s doom? Yeah, I read up on that. That Luke wants to avoid the limelight?”

Leia laughed, and Grogu’s ear twitched as he sought out the lilting sound. “Yes. As soon as he thinks things are quiet enough here. He’s been threatening to leave for years. He wants to start a temple on a remote planet to train a new order of Jedi.”

“It’s true,” Luke said, and he’d come to place his hands on the back of Din’s chair. “I have a favorite swamp in mind.”

“That sounds nice. Grogu loves to eat frogs,” Din told him. 

Leia raised her palm to her forehead. “Well. I guess I’ll save my speech requesting Mandalore consider joining the New Republic for another time, if you’re all three running off to Dagobah.”

“It doesn’t have to be Dagobah,” Luke pointed out. “I was actually leaning towards Yavin IV.”

“At least that’s closer,” Leia sighed. She pinned brown eyes on a spot above Din’s head. “Supply lines, you know…”

“Right. Supply lines. That’s the reason.” Din tilted his helmet up and saw strong emotion in Luke’s eyes despite his blasé response. 

Brother and sister exchanged a long look that Din couldn’t fully interpret. He recognized affection in it though.

Leia eventually said, “As much as you’d like to go off on a scouting mission, I recommend you deal with this mysterious assailant first.”

Luke circled Din’s chair until Din was able to see him without twisting his neck. “Or,” Luke drawled, “leaving here may draw out the attacker.”

“What if you get attacked the minute you leave the ozone shield?” Leia countered.

“We’re both good pilots,” Luke defended. 

“Great pilots, actually,” Din helped.

“Ace pilots,” Luke finished.

Leia smirked. “Can I give you _one_ piece of advice, then? For two men who claim to hate the limelight?”

“Go ahead.”

“Don’t take the X-Wing,” Leia said wryly. “Get a ship with _two_ seats. That way, when everyone asks how my brother’s torrid love affair with the menacing Mando is going, I can at least say you weren’t sitting in each other’s laps?”

“Just for that,” Luke mused, “I might have to insist on taking the X-Wing.”

Even though that sounded good to Din, he said, “I’ll pass. Or at least, this time Grogu will sit in my lap, and I will sit in _yours.”_

“Grogu might not weigh much, but you’re heavier than me in that armor,” Luke protested. “And you don’t know how to fly an X-Wing.”

“I watched you. I can fly it,” Din replied confidently. “And besides, you can use the Force to hold me up, can’t you?”

“The whole flight?” Luke asked.

“You _can’t_ do it?” Din prodded.

“I’m leaving now,” Leia announced, but she was biting her lip, and Din knew she was trying not to laugh at them outright. “I have a meeting down the hall. Lots of work to do. I’ll let the ‘ace pilots’ figure it out, right Grogu?”

Leia left, and then it was just Din and Luke and Grogu. The teasing atmosphere felt heavier without Leia’s mitigating presence. Luke and Din started speaking at the same time:

“Would you actually want to sit in my--”

“She does have a point about staying here to investi--” Din stopped. “You first.”

“No, you,” Luke urged.

Din began again, “I just think her advice had merit. Maybe it would be wiser to stay here to investigate the attack. I’d like to know which one of us was being targeted and why. Wouldn’t you?”

“Yes. And...I am sorry about all the holos. I avoid them. But I should have showed you.” 

Din shrugged. “It doesn’t matter to me.” 

“Not even the fact that they’re not all only locally distributed?” Luke asked. “Some of these get circulated pretty far, even to the Outer Rim. If you are seeking other Mandalorians, maybe they won’t trust you if they see you hanging around with a Jedi, even setting aside the, uh, insinuations that we’re, you know…”

“Having a torrid love affair in defiance of our peoples’ supposed ancient embitterment?” Din supplied.

Luke blinked. “Yeah. That.”

“I don’t think it matters.”

“Which part?” Luke questioned.

“Any of it,” Din said, waving his hand. And he meant it. “I’ve come to learn there is more than one kind of Mandalorian in the galaxy, even if we share the Resol’nare. The kinds of Mandalorians who are going to be willing to unite on Mandalore aren’t the ones who would care about such things as an antiquated grudge. Both the Mandalorians and the Jedi were torn apart and forced into exile by the Empire.” Din continued, “To unite and rebuild Mandalore, we’ll have to be more tolerant of each other’s differences. And if any Mando’ade are so concerned, they’ll have to adapt, to let go of old resentments, be it with other clans or other peoples.”

Luke nodded thoughtfully. “Is that what you meant about not being sure about your own covert? That they are more... traditional followers of the Mandalorian creed?”

“Very traditional. Rigid, even,” Din acknowledged. “Many of my covert may not yet be willing to accept other Mandalorians who do not follow the Way. Even I still struggle with it, despite having diverged from that path myself.” He paused. “But I have hope. I think it could work. And I would like to see any of my covert who survived Nevarro.”

“I hope you do find them,” Luke said supportively. “And I hope they are happy to see you.” Luke offered Din a hand up from his seat, but it seemed like he was offering more. “And if not, Grogu and I will always be happy to see you.”

The fluttering in Din’s stomach had returned. “That’s very kind,” he managed to say, accepting Luke’s hand and letting Luke pull him up until they were standing chest to chest. Luke didn’t back up to put a polite distance between them, and Din didn’t want him to. He wanted to stand close to Luke. Truthfully, he wanted more than that, but he was doubting himself. “That’s the, uh, ‘echo’ of the training bond, right?” he asked cautiously. It was better to know. Better to name the unnamed thing, so that it’d be easier to forget. 

“Right,” Luke said, looking surprised, as if he hadn’t expected Din to remember he’d said that. But how could Din forget? “Maybe. I guess I don’t really know. I’ve declared myself a Jedi Master, but there’s a lot I’m just winging.”

Din understood that. “I carry the right to rule Mandalore, yet there’s much I don’t know about my own people. I’m constantly ‘winging it.’”

The tension eased in their shared admission that neither really knew what they were doing. 

“Let’s take Grogu back to my apartment,” Luke proposed. “I need to do a little training with him. You’re welcome to participate.”

Grogu cooed at hearing his name, and Din settled him in his arms. “I can’t imagine I’ll be much help, but I’m willing to try.”

“He hadn’t used the Force for years until you found him,” Luke said quietly, tone turning serious again. “You bring out his courage. Don’t be so surprised if you decide to lead your people and find yourself bringing out courage in others, too.”

Din didn’t know how to reply to that. He just hugged Grogu tighter to where he was snuggled against his cowl. 


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I’m fairly sure I have about as much Force sensitivity as a slice of cheese, but I...I know there’s some ‘Jedi stuff’ happening’ between you and me. I think I have a right to know about it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AOL voice: _You’ve Got Mail._ Bonus historical linguistics 101. And the thrusters finally kick in for that slow burn...

“Red square,” Luke whispered closely again at the side of Din’s helmet where his ear was beneath the beskar. 

Din disguised a shudder with a huff. He felt ludicrous, but he’d agreed to this...not that he’d known exactly what he was agreeing to. He supposed he’d imagined sitting in Luke’s apartment holding stones for Grogu to lift. He certainly hadn’t pictured sitting cross-legged in a garden in a geodesic-domed climatron serving as the ill-fitting third point of a triangle of meditating Jedi.

Grogu was at the apex of their trio, sitting several feet away from Din and Luke. His small form was hunched over a datapad that lay in the grass next to a small stream dotted with lily pads—and probably hiding frogs. Grogu held a stylus between three small fingers. 

As Luke had instructed, Din pictured a red square in his mind’s eye. Four sides of even length. Red as an apple. 

A few feet away, Grogu chewed on the end of his stylus.

“Don’t eat that,” Din admonished him.

Grogu looked at him with wide, innocent eyes, but he took the stylus out of his mouth and put it on the blank datapad. 

Din went back to thinking about a red square.

Grogu stared at him with his eyes half closed. He started to move the stylus in four short, jagged lines. He tapped the stylus on the red pigment selector and tapped the shape he’d drawn, turning it red. Then, he looked up at Din and Luke and cooed, “Ba?”

“Very good, Grogu,” Luke praised. 

“Yeah, great job, kid,” Din said, gawking at the red square Grogu had drawn on the datapad. He’d watched in awe three times as Grogu plucked a shape and a color out of Din’s head and recreated it on the datapad, like a bizarre game of ‘guess how many fingers I’m holding up.’ Each time Din was amazed at what Grogu could do. 

“Let’s take a break,” Luke suggested. 

Grogu put down the stylus and started making grabby hands towards one of the water lilies.

Din used the opportunity to stretch his arms behind his head and lean back until he was lying on the grass. He looked up at the glass domed ceiling, which was covered in green vines. Birds darted between the highest branches, which stretched and pressed at the glass, striving to soak up the artificial sunlight. 

“Should I be worried you’re teaching my kid to read my mind?” Din asked. His tone was light, but it carried an edge of genuine concern. 

“Better yours than mine,” Luke said above him.

Din frowned under his helmet. If that had been a joke, it hadn’t been a very good one. 

“He already knows how to do it,” Luke clarified.

“Is that supposed to put me at ease?” Din asked, letting some of his incredulity creep into his voice.

And then Din’s view of the scenery was obstructed by Luke’s face as the Jedi leaned over him. 

“What?” Din prompted. Luke wasn’t even touching him, but from Din’s upside-down view, Din felt Luke’s scrutiny brush over him like a phantom caress. His face was a shadow, framed by the light behind him, shaggy blond hair fading into brushstrokes of gold. Din wanted to take off his helmet to see if his visor was playing tricks on him or if Luke really looked as beautiful as Din thought he did.

“Control is necessary. Consent, too. The skill itself comes naturally, but these things must be taught.”

Din closed his eyes as Luke’s softly spoken words washed over him. His skin prickled, maybe from the tone or from Luke looming over him, taking up so much _space_ in his range of vision. Din tried to focus on the actual words. He was reminded of Luke’s short—too short—speech on the light cruiser about talent requiring training. 

Luke continued in the same hushed timbre. “Your bond with him is strong in the Force. It’s not my intention to sever it. But it needs to be tempered. Focused. Not just a bleeding of thoughts and emotions.”

Din thought back on times when it seemed Grogu was mirroring his emotions back at him, like when Din spilled hot soup on his fingers and Grogu had cried as if it had happened to him. 

“Equally if not more important than reaching out to someone with the Force is learning _not_ to do so... He needs mental shields as strong as this.” As Luke spoke, he traced black-gloved fingers over the armor on Din’s chest, and Din’s eyes shot open. “As strong as beskar. To keep out negative influences, but also to protect others and to protect his own sense of self.”

Din snatched Luke’s hand and held it still. He had to stop its idle wandering over his cuirass. The touch was too reverent. Too _something._

Luke froze, and flicked his eyes from Din’s chest to his visor. 

Din knew that Luke was about to apologize and move away. Din didn’t want him to do that, but he didn’t know how to move past the moment without ruining it. Din certainly felt drawn to him, but it was confusing. Luke had described Din as being at ‘a bit of a disadvantage’ due to Grogu’s insights, but it felt like more than that. The Jedi seemed to know so much about Din, and kept seeking to know even more.

“Did I tell you yet how I ended up with this hand?” Luke asked, breaking both the silence and the loop Din’s thoughts were caught in. Luke remained where he was, still leaning over Din.

“Hm?” Din eased his grip on Luke’s hand.

“It’s a prosthetic,” Luke explained, flexing and releasing his fingers. “I lost the hand in a duel with my father on Bespin.”

“Cloud City.” Din recognized the name. He’d been there once to retrieve a bounty. But of course, the location was hardly the thing to take away from the story. “Your father cut off your hand?”

Luke’s fingers shifted to wrap around Din’s wrist. “Clean off. Right at the wrist where I was holding my saber.” 

Luke’s thumb slipped beneath the glove and the shirtsleeve, finding the bare skin of Din’s wrist. 

Din’s pulse jumped. 

It could be written off as accidental, just a demonstration to aid in the telling of Luke’s story. 

“I wasn’t ready to face him. I hadn’t completed my training. But I went anyway, to save Han, Chewie, and Leia. I had to save my friends.”

Din tried to picture a younger Luke, recklessly chasing after a dark sorcerer in a different sort of mask. “And did you?” he asked. Obviously, Luke’s friends were fine, as Din had just met them, but he was curious how it happened. And he wanted Luke to keep talking. The cadence was like an incantation, and Din was transfixed. 

“The mission was...not a rounding success. Han got frozen in carbonite and carted off by the bounty hunter Boba Fett to Jabba.”

Din filed that tidbit away for later. It also reminded him that he _really_ needed to check his messages.

“I lost my lightsaber and almost died. Leia had to be the one to find and save _me._ But,” Luke paused, moving his thumb against Din’s pulsepoint, “we lived. And if I hadn’t gone, I’m not sure that would have been the case for Han and Leia. If I had to make the choice again, I’d do it the same.”

Din believed him, because he understood that kind of choice. He understood taking risks and making sacrifices for his covert and his clan. His clan of two.

Before Din could say as much, they were interrupted. Either tired of being ignored or perhaps still attuned to the turn of Din’s thoughts, a tiny green hand appeared and inserted itself between Luke and Din’s palms. 

Luke beamed and let go of Din’s wrist after a light squeeze. He picked Grogu up and set him on top of Din. “Hey, little one!” 

Din reached out to steady Grogu as he perched on Din’s stomach. “Hungry, kiddo?”

Grogu blinked at him as if to imply _, aren’t I always?_

Din eased up to a sitting position and then rose to his feet, rearranging Grogu in his hold. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

Luke led the way. 

*****

Luke was evidently familiar with Grogu’s ability to chow down. After feeding him an alarming amount of food, they’d put him to bed in his room. He was being fussy, so the two of them were sitting on the floor in the dark to keep him company until he dozed off. They rested their backs against Grogu’s small bed.

Luke had turned on a nightlight that displayed a star-filled night sky and also played accompanying sounds. “It has different settings, so you can pick the star charts and environment sounds for different locations on different planets.”

“Which planet’s night sky is this?” Din asked. The stars were bright, and the sounds were that of a busy forest—crickets chirping, owls hooting, and leaves rustling in the wind. It reminded him of his late night patrols on Sorgan.

“Mmm, let me check,” Luke said, reaching across Din to tap the nightlight’s settings. “Oh, look how the stars reflect on your armor,” he added absently. “Ah-hah. It’s Endor.”

“That’s where the Rebels defeated the second Death Star, right?” Din recalled from his research. 

“Mm-hm. Han, Chewie, and Leia led the ground assault on the shield generator with the help of the Ewoks.”

Din fiddled with the strap of his left knee brace. “I’ve never seen an Ewok.”

“They look like cuddly bears, but they fought bravely against hordes of stormtroopers. If not for their help, I don’t know if we’d have won the day.”

Din let go of the strap and tapped his fingers on his knee, listening to the long call of a loon. “I can’t picture it.” 

“Here, I can show you,” Luke said, reaching for him. But then he hesitated. “If you want.”

Din wasn’t sure what he meant by ‘show you,’ but he nodded in the dim light. “Sure. Show me the Ewoks of Endor.”

Luke scooted closer to him until their knees and hips touched. He took Din’s hand in his and closed his eyes. “Close your eyes. Clear your mind.”

“I thought I’m supposed to think about Ewoks.”

 _“I’m_ going to think about the Ewoks. And then I’m going to share my perception with you. Okay?”

“You can do that?” Din asked dubiously. 

“I think so.”

“You don’t know?”

Luke answered, “I haven’t tried it quite like this before, but I don’t see why not. I can pick up or project certain thoughts and emotions. So why not imagery?”

Din found he didn’t mind partaking in Luke’s experimentation. Luke sounded confident, and Din was curious. He tried to do as requested and clear his mind, making it receptive to whatever Luke was going to show him. 

When Din actively tried to think of a vast nothingness, his mind immediately went to the Dune Sea. Endless swells of sand in all directions. Two hot suns overhead, cooking him inside his armor. No surface life to speak of for clicks and clicks…unless he encountered any Tuskens.

“Are you thinking about Tatooine?” Luke asked, surprised. 

Din opened his eyes. “Yes? I’ve spent a lot of time there bounty hunting.”

“Small universe,” Luke murmured. 

“That’s right, you mentioned something about Tatooine before. What brought a famous Jedi to that Outer Rim dust bowl?” Din thought of Luke’s Cloud City story. “Did you track Fett to Jabba’s Palace to rescue Han?”

“Yes, but that was my _return_ to Tatooine. Originally, I grew up there on my aunt and uncle’s moisture farm.”

“You’re not serious.”

“I’m serious.”

Din rapped his fingers on his knee again. “So if I make a reference to spotchka or womp rats or Tuskens, you actually know what I‘m talking about?”

“Din, I used to shoot womp rats from my T-16.”

Din whistled, impressed. “That makes you a _very_ good shot. Or did you use the magic hand thing on those poor critters?”

Luke wiggled his fingers but shrugged as well. “Maybe a bit of both. I didn’t know anything about the Force then, but it was always a part of me. A lot of people who think they’re just lucky may actually be Force sensitive.”

“Hm. So are you going to show me these Ewoks or not?”

“Yeah, sorry, I got distracted,” Luke admitted. “You tend to have that effect on me.”

Din stuttered over that, but Luke simply reached out to him again. He closed his eyes and tried to recenter himself.

Luke hummed. “I like how you think of a desert when trying to make your mind blank. It makes sense to me, too.”

Din bristled, but not in a bad way. “Get on with it before I change my mind.”

“Relax. I’m getting there.”

The only sounds in the room were Grogu’s light snoring, their even breaths, and the forest sounds playing over the sleep machine. 

And then the sand in Din’s mind swirled away, and instead he was standing beneath the tallest trees he’d ever seen. When he looked down, he saw a fur-covered being standing before him at about waist-height. He had a striped gray and black body, with black eyes. He wore a necklace made of sharp teeth, and a headpiece that let two furry ears peek through the top. He held a sharp staff in his hand. He growled, then chittered. 

Din blinked, and the image faded away, leaving him back in Grogu’s starlit room. 

“That was Teebo,” Luke said, identifying the Ewok. “Feisty guy. Wanted to cook us over an open flame when we first met. Tied us up and actually started to do it, too.”

“Charming. If they tried that on me, I’d be aiming my disintegrator pistol.”

“Is that the kind of diplomacy we can look forward to from future representatives of Mandalore?” Luke asked sardonically. 

Din grumbled. “I’m just saying that I’m not going to let myself get cooked alive to prove a point.” 

“What point do you think I was trying to prove?”

“That you’re a good person? Peaceful? I don’t know. You could have crushed their throats, but you didn’t want to resort to violence.”

“Violence does tend to be a last resort for me,” Luke conceded. “We weren’t freed until I used the Force to levitate Threepio over us, making the Ewoks think he was going to get angry and use his magic against them.” He added, “You met Threepio. He’s the gold protocol droid.”

Din scoffed. “So you used your Jedi powers to make them think your droid was some kind of god?” 

“Your tone is awfully critical for a man who claims he’d have started _disintegrating_ Ewoks.” 

“Fair,” Din acknowledged. “But you could have just fought your way out. Choosing subterfuge instead? I can’t relate.”

“I think you can,” Luke disagreed. “I know you’re always armed to the teeth, and it’s a core part of your culture. I know you don’t hesitate to fight if the situation calls for it. But I don’t get the sense that you _crave_ violence or relish it when it finds you.”

“I guess not,” Din allowed. “I’m good at it though. Killing, I mean.”

“So am I. I train for battle every day. But I don’t set out every day hoping for it. Neither do you.”

Din couldn’t find fault with Luke’s assessment. He’d think about it some more. And there was still something else nagging him. “Did you transmit the Ewok imagery thing to me through your training bond with Grogu? You said something about it echoing with me? I didn’t understand that.” 

Luke laughed, but it was a nervous sound, and Din could feel the Jedi fidgeting next to him. “Yeaaaah, I think I misspoke about that.”

“How so?”

Luke let loose a long sigh. “Din, the four Force bonds I’ve had in my life have all been between student and teacher. First, there were my masters, Ben and Yoda. Our bonds allowed us to continue my training long after they passed from the physical realm.”

Din interjected, “You mean they died but kept training you?” His head screamed, _zombie jetiis?!_

“Yes. And then there was Leia, and we already had a close bond as siblings, which deepened as I began training her. When Grogu reached out to me from Tython, his essence sang in the Force. He welcomed the development of a training bond between us unreservedly, which I think owes to his training under so many different masters at the temple in the Old Republic. But that’s the sum of my experience with Force bonds of _any_ kind. Always student and teacher, you see?”

“I see,” Din said, even though it didn’t answer his question. He pressed on, “So what does that mean? I’m fairly sure I have about as much Force sensitivity as a slice of cheese, but I...I know there’s some ‘Jedi stuff’ happening’ between you and me. I think I have a right to know about it. You’re the Jedi, after all.”

Luke made a tsk’ing sound. “A slice of cheese… How do you know it’s anything to do with ‘Jedi stuff’ at all? Maybe we have an affinity for one another because we just...get along.”

 _Get along?_ Din clamped his mouth shut.

Luke wasn’t deterred. “Maybe we just _like_ each other.”

Din breathed harshly through his nose. 

Luke carried on as if Din wasn’t having a minor panic beside him. “Have you felt a connection like this with many other people before? Maybe _you’re_ more experienced in this than I am.”

 _Hardly,_ Din thought, quickly followed by: _are we even talking about the same thing?_ He responded with whatever words came to the tip of his tongue. “I’m not, uh, experienced...But I _know_ you’re using some kind of _Jetii_ sorcery on me.”

“Oh, you _know_ that, do you?”

“Yes,” Din insisted, despite the amusement in Luke’s voice. 

“I’ll tell you what _I_ know. I know that I liked you even before I met you, because Grogu showed me what a good man you are. And then I met you, and you’ve lived up to your hype. You’re even more kind and brave and likeable in person. And whatever is developing between us isn’t just my doing,” Luke paused, letting the implication hang in the air that it was just as much Din’s doing, “Not consciously, anyway. It’s just...manifesting naturally.”

“So you aren’t just confusing Grogu’s...admiration for me with your own estimation? You don’t like me just because Grogu does?” Din asked, trying to put his concern into words.

 _“Kriff, no,”_ Luke denied emphatically. “He might have piqued my interest in seeking you out, but my feelings about you are my own. They’re not confused or tangled with someone else’s, Din.” 

“Good.” Din’s brief panic began to ebb. 

“Good?” Luke repeated. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Din inquired, feigning guilelessness.

Din’s visor filtered the dim light just enough to reveal Luke rolling his eyes. “Do you _like_ me, too?”

Din couldn’t help drag out the suspense, which was a farce anyway since Luke couldn’t seem to help peeking inside his head. But he was enjoying making Luke squirm and drop the cool and collected demeanor he kept trying to project. “Now that I know it’s not just a Grogu thing or a Jedi thing on your part?”

“Right. Knowing that.”

“Knowing that, I’d say--”

A communicator buzzed insistently, emitting three harsh pings.

Luke cursed softly and jumped up, grabbing the communicator from his belt. “Luke here.” He glanced at the small bed, where Grogu was sitting up and blinking at him with apprehension. A frown crossed Luke’s face.

Din waved at him to let him know he’d handle it. Luke nodded in gratitude before ducking out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Din brushed the back of Grogu’s head. “It’s okay,” he soothed. “The Jedi got a call, that’s all. Nothing’s wrong. Go back to sleep.”

Grogu let out a few small snorts, but trustingly laid his head back on the pillow. Din sat on the edge of the bed, watching him until he settled again. 

Din slipped out of the room and saw Luke putting on his boots. “I have to go deal with something,” the Jedi said.

Din patted his blaster holster meaningfully. “Something dangerous?” 

Luke grinned at the implicit offer, but shook his head. “I don’t think so. Just urgent. I’ll be back soon. And then, maybe we can finish that conversation?” he asked hopefully.

“I’ll be here,” Din said, tilting his helm forward. 

After Luke left the apartment, Din returned to Grogu’s room to check on him. He looked like he’d managed to go back to sleep. Din noticed the datapad Grogu had been using earlier was sitting on the nightstand. It would be the perfect distraction to stop himself from rehashing the aforementioned _conversation._

Din brought the datapad to the main room, where he reclined on the sofa and propped it up on his knees. He logged in with his personal comm frequency to check his messages. 

He had a _lot_ of messages.

The first was from a secure channel. Din tapped it open, and a hologram of a red and green buy’ce materialized. Boba Fett.

> _Greetings, Beroya,_
> 
> _It turns out I have a request after all. I want you to forward me whatever message Bo-Katan sends you. I want to see the look on her face. It’s unfair I missed it when you first got the thing from the Moff, and_ again _now that you let your jetii get his grabby New Republic paws on it._
> 
> _Speaking of whom...did I ever tell you his role in how I ended up in that sarlacc pit? I’m sure I did. But I suppose he’ll have your back at least_ half _as well as I could. I don’t know which rumors are true and which are untrue, but if things go bad, you’re always welcome to grab the kid—and by kid I mean Grogu, not your baby-faced jetii—and come to the oasis. No one will bother you here. That I can assure you._
> 
> _But don’t confuse my palace gates with neutrality. If I’m allowed to have any opinion on Mandalorian politics, it’d be that neutrality is a farce. Someone always owns you, be it the one whose banner you fly or the one transferring credits to your account. You might as well legitimize it. I still say you’re on a fool’s errand trying to unite the clans, but at least you’re honest about choosing to_ get into bed with _the New Republic. Ha._
> 
> _I suppose you could do worse. But you’ve put a target on your back. Clan Kryze is all talk these days—I think you’ve impressed the princess—but plenty other Mando’ade won’t invite you for spiced tea before trying to take you down. I saw the footage of the skybridge. Don’t get sloppy due to sentiment. And, not to say I told you so, but I_ told you _to add the One-Eyed Viper to your beskar’gam. Everyone needs a missile launcher._
> 
> _Say hello to the womp rat for me. And the Huttslayer. Don’t be fooled by her. She’s just as dangerous as her brother. Her husband’s a real shabuir though._
> 
> _Fett out._

Din closed the message and tapped his fingers on the datapad. With everything going on between him and Luke, he’d put the tabloids and even the recent attack out of his mind for a few hours. It was all coming back to him now. Din hadn’t even _hesitated_ to offer Luke the Darksaber when they’d been attacked on the skybridge. He hadn’t considered the potential implications... 

Din braced himself to open the message from Bo-Katan. She wore her helmet in the recorded hologram, but her tone was unmistakable. She was livid.

> _Din,_
> 
> _I thought you were going to Coruscant to cozy up with your kid, not the Jedi. I should have known when you jumped into that X-Wing...But that’s not the point. That’s none of my business._
> 
> _There’s only_ one _reason I’m calling, and it’s about the Darksaber. I did explain it to you, didn’t I? It’s a beacon of our people. It’s the whetstone upon which we're to sharpen the united blades of Mandalore. To offer it to the Jedi is...outrageous. Many would construe it as a grave insult. With that little stunt on the bridge, you might have just undone all of our efforts at recruiting other Mandalorians into the fold. You--_

Din closed the message, cutting off Bo-Katan’s sanctimonious rant. Din hadn’t meant to do anything but help an ally defend himself in a fight by using whatever was at his disposal. He certainly hadn’t meant to dishonor the blade’s significance to Mandalore.

Din decided to open Cara’s message next. Her hologram grinned.

> _So, quiet village life isn’t in the cards for you, is it? I’d assume it’s just a fling, except you don’t do flings. You don’t do anything in half measures. I’d better get an invitation to the bonding ceremony._
> 
> _Greef sends his regards. Nevarro’s looking pretty sharp these days. You should visit. Bring both your Jedi._

Din was starting to wonder if everyone had lost their minds. From what he’d seen at Leia’s office, the tabloids simply had a few holos of him and Luke walking next to one another and, yes, getting out of the same X-Wing. And now there was footage of them fighting together. But that was it. How could such limited interactions result in such a media circus? And what was Din supposed to do about it? Denying it altogether would be...disingenuous. He should probably follow Luke’s lead and just ignore it. 

He turned to the next encrypted message. It was an audio recording with no hologram. 

> _Hey, Mando,_
> 
> _I know I’m dead, so this message is coming to you from beyond the grave. I started bounty hunting to put my only viable skills to use in a mostly non-lethal way._
> 
> _I recognized you in a holocast with that dude with the lasersword. Congrats or whatever. How’s the little green guy?_
> 
> _Anyway, I’m stalled on the hunting gig. Can you get me in with the Guild?_

Din considered giving Mayfeld’s contact info to Cara to pass onto Greef. But he wasn’t sure if reconnecting Mayfeld and Cara would be doing either the sharpshooter or the marshal any favors. It might be like putting two cage fighters in the same pen.

Din clicked on the next message, which was also encrypted. He almost dropped the datapad when he recognized a painfully familiar blue buy’ce. 

> _Vi linibar at jorhaa'ir._

Din stared at the message. _We need to talk_ , it said. Attached to the singular message was a set of coordinates. Din’s covert was reaching out to him. Paz Vizla was reaching out to him. 

But when Din punched the coordinates into the nav program, it spit back a rejection. _No known match._ That was weird. He tapped his thigh, thinking. The series of digits had to mean something. Paz hadn’t left a return frequency, but maybe he’d send Din another message if Din couldn’t figure it out. Paz _had_ to know that Din wouldn’t just ignore the message. He had to know that Din would accept the invitation to talk. 

Finally having gotten through all his messages, Din was wide awake. Like Coruscant itself, he couldn’t sleep. But he didn’t want to sit and stew over the confusing fact that everyone apparently thought he was dating Luke Skywalker. And he certainly didn’t want to think about Bo-Katan’s censure concerning the Darksaber. So Din decided to do what he’d originally come to Coruscant to do. He would take a look at the Mandalorian relics. 

Din found the haphazard pile of relics in Luke’s room. He brought out the Mandalorian ones to the low table in front of the sofa. There was the datastick Luke had shown him on Concordia, but his eye was drawn to a brittle, yellowed piece of parchment. He unfolded it with care. 

Mando’a calligraphy. 

Even setting aside the flourishes of the metallic ink—surely they hadn’t wasted beskar to make ink, had they?—the text was nearly incomprehensible. The dialect was generations past. 

But some word roots stood out, even if the vowels were all switched around and some of the letters looked like typos but probably weren’t. Din perused the document, and he began to recognize patterns in the way the vowels and consonants differed from his own dialect. For instance, _beskar’gam_ was _baeskal’ham_. 

It was like a cipher. And Din just needed to make a primer. He pulled up his stylus and a blank document on his datpad and set to work translating the text. He started a list of the obvious changes: ae > e; h > g; r >l, and so on. Some of the ‘rules’ he wrote got broken, so he started another list of exceptions, and revised the rules as he went. He sounded out some of the words as he worked, and it felt like all the sounds had shifted around in his mouth. It would take hours to finish the primer and apply it. Even then, some of the vocabulary just wasn’t recognizable. But Din was certain he could get the gist of it.

He worked through most of what passed for night on Coruscant. 

He had almost worked through a complete first translation when Luke returned early in the morning, bearing breakfast food and cups that smelled of caf. He put down breakfast food on the counter and unpacked the spread. Din recognized some of the too-sweet pastries from before, but he also saw unglazed and jamless breads. Luke didn’t say anything about the updated offerings, but Din appreciated it.

Luke walked over to see what Din was up to. Holding a caf in each hand, he peered down at the datapad. “You’ve been busy!” 

“I couldn’t sleep,” Din said in explanation. He gratefully accepted the steaming cup of caf that Luke handed to him and tilted up his helm to sip it. “Got your situation resolved?”

“Mostly,” Luke replied, picking up the datapad in his free hand. “We got reports about a possible dark Force user rallying imperial remnants near the unknown regions. So far, it’s just rumors. Eventually I’ll have to go check it out.”

It sounded dangerous. “Some people say, where there’s smoke there is fire.” Din’s helmet was still pushed up to expose his mouth so that he could drink his caf. But it meant his vision was obstructed, and he nearly jumped and spilled the drink when Luke suddenly appeared in his space, standing between Din’s knees and the low table. Din pushed his helmet back down in order to look up at him. “What?”

Luke’s face was inscrutable again. “Is that true about all rumors, you think?”

Din felt a flush creep up his neck and warm his face under the helmet. _Right. The_ other _rumors. The rumors about_ them. And Luke had already said last night that he _liked Din._

Luke was not what Din had expected. When faced with the prospect of spending time with a being who had immense mystical powers, who could choke Din’s breath away with his mind, he hadn’t anticipated having his breath stolen in other ways. 

Just yesterday, Din had been certain that their easy camaraderie was attributable to Grogu. Luke had told him on the X-Wing that he felt like he already knew Din through Grogu. But that couldn’t explain Din’s _own_ reaction to Luke’s familiarity with him. 

Din wasn’t taken aback so much by Luke’s tactileness, which was...fine. Nice, actually. It was the _emotional_ intimacy that had Din on tenterhooks. Luke talked to him like they were old friends, as if they had years-old secrets between them. The truth was, until he’d begun to care for Grogu, Din hadn’t been very open with anyone. Not like that. No one knew his favorite spice to add to his soup. No one knew he preferred to sleep on his right side. No one knew how much he loved going fast, whether it was on the back of a speeder or flying with his jetpack. No one knew until Grogu did. And now, in the blink of an eye, Luke was learning such things about Din, too. 

Between Luke having the benefit of Grogu’s insights about him as well as his Jedi mind-reading powers, Din should have felt unnerved. Exposed. But he wasn’t. His nerves were rattled around Luke not because he was distressed but because he was in a constant state of pleasant surprise at how easy it was to _get along_ with him, as Luke had put it. Luke could sense things about Din without Din having to say anything. Luke simply accepted him as he was. And that was...incredible. 

Din wondered what Luke was reading in him now, standing in the vee of his legs and looking down at him with a cup of caf in one hand and a datapad in the other. The Jedi was waiting for a response, and Din knew he wanted to know if there was any truth to the romance rumors. Luke _liked_ him, and wanted to know if Din liked him back.

Maybe it could be considered cheating, to lean on the crutch of Luke’s uncanny ability to read him. Maybe he was testing Luke, wanting to know with unflinching honesty just how open Din was to him. Or maybe Din just preferred action over words. 

Din lifted his helmet and pulled it all the way off as he rose to his feet.

“Din--”

He cupped Luke’s face in both hands and kissed him.

For a moment, Luke’s lips were still beneath his. And then they parted with a small gasp. Din drank in the puff of warm breath and pressed close, gently moving his lips against Luke’s, a slip-slide of feather-light skin that lit a thousand flames up and down his body. 

His gloved thumbs stroked Luke’s face, tilting him to better slot their mouths together. Someone whimpered. Maybe both of them. Kissing Luke was better than Din could have imagined. Luke was supple beneath him, shifting and licking at the corner of Din’s mouth, which he realized was curved in a smile.

When they finally parted for air, Luke was beaming at him like Din was the center of the universe. 

He was vibrant and irresistible, and Din had to kiss him again, so he did, firmly, one hand reaching around to the small of Luke’s back to hold him closer. 

Luke’s arms came to wrap around him, too. Din dimly wondered what happened to the things in his hands, but the question was easily dismissed under the delightful feel of Luke's hands desperately scrambling for purchase between the pieces of Din’s armor. Luke sought out the softest parts of Din he could reach with a possessive determination, and managed to secure a hold beneath Din’s cowl and at his hip.

Still entangled with one another, Din released Luke’s lips and feasted his eyes on the pink flush that had bloomed in Luke’s cheeks. Something caught his attention in his peripheral vision, and he saw a cup of caf floating in the air next to him. The datapad hovered at his other side. 

Din raised his eyebrows at the display, and Luke’s returning expression was sheepish. “I had something more important to hold.”

“If you can maintain that while I’m kissing you, I’m going to have to work on my technique.”

“Show me,” Luke said. It was both a challenge and an invitation. His tongue darted out to swipe across his lip.

Din groaned and leaned in to bring their mouths together again.

Neither of them cared that their caf was getting cold.


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When has the Alor ever sent you on a quest empty handed, Din’ika?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Covert reunion with my favorite heavy infantryman! The scene got way out of hand, but to make up for it there is more kissing, Luke being a brat, and Din carrying Luke in flight. Apparently, this story has something of a plot now. Din still knows nothing, but he gets a new beskar toy and is going to be both a king and very wealthy.

_Truce Through Love? Jedi Wields Infamous Mando Death Sword_

_Secret of the Darksaber Revealed: The Lore Of the Leader of Mandalore_

_Not Just Another Man(do) In the Crowd: Jedi’s Mando is Heir to Mandalorian Throne_

_A Royal Affair: Mandalorian King Woos Rebel Prince_

_Skywalker Should Reject King of Dead Planet_

_Mandalorian Gift-Gifting Culture: Take My Blade, Take My Hand in Marriage_

_Most Eligible Bachelor in the New Republic Can Do Better Than Mystery Mercenary_

_The DARKSABER: Royal Wedding Gift?_

_Eloped! King of Mandalore Weds Skywalker. Details of the Secret Ceremony Inside!_

_Honeymoon Ruined By Attack!_

_Skywalker Trapped in Political Marriage? Free the Jedi Hero!_

“That’s quite enough of that,” Luke said. 

Din shut off the holofeed and walked to stand behind Luke, placing his hands on his shoulders. He rubbed up and down Luke’s shoulders. “I guess the kybuck is out of the grass about my claim to the role of Mand’alor.”

Luke made an unhappy sound, prompting Din to knead the back of his neck. He was pleased when Luke hummed again, this time much less unhappily.

“I hadn’t known the significance of the Darksaber until the Imp told me,” Din admitted. “I still find myself disturbed every time other people know more about some parts of Mandalorian legend than I do.”

“I get that,” Luke said, as he dipped his head forward, which Din took as encouragement to apply more pressure with his fingers. “Why do you think I’ve been hunting down Jedi relics? The Emperor ordered so much of it to be destroyed...it’s hard to find anything left.”

“I guess I’m lucky I have Bo-Katan,” Din said. Bo-Ktan was overbearing, but he knew she meant well. “If she takes a breath from talking about her plan to restore Mandalore, she uses it to fill in what she thinks are ‘gaps’ in my education in Mandalorian history.”

“Is it different from what you were taught in your covert?” Luke asked. 

“It’s…” Din thought about that as he dug into a knot at the base of Luke’s neck, pressing to ease the tensenses in the muscle there. “It’s from a different point of view.”

Luke chuckled. “Oh, I’m _very_ familiar with history being told from _a certain point of view.”_

“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the story there?”

“Well,” Luke started. “My first teacher told me Darth Vader betrayed and murdered my father.”

Din’s browns knitted. “I thought Vader _was_ your father.”

“He was,” Luke confirmed. 

“That’s...a very different thing from _killing_ your father.”

“I thought so too, when I found out,” Luke agreed, and his tone became faraway. “But I grew to understand what Ben meant. The dark side of the Force warps a person, corrupting and destroying one’s true self. In that sense, Dark Vader _did_ kill Anakin Skywalker. He had to in order to become the monster he did.”

Din felt cold listening to Luke’s words. It was easy to forget the mystical, metaphysical threat that loomed over Grogu’s training, especially when getting to watch him joyfully lift objects and draw colorful shapes. But Din remembered how Grogu had choked Cara when they’d arm-wrestled. Din had since learned that using the Force to choke his officers was a hallmark of Darth Vader’s command style. What if Grogu became too powerful and it corrupted him, too? Din couldn’t bear the thought. 

Luke pulled Din’s hands from his shoulders and drew Din in front of him. He looked up to meet Din’s eyes. “Din, I won’t let that happen to Grogu. I won’t let him fall. I’m going to watch over him.”

“He’ll outlive you,” Din pointed out.

“Then I’ll follow him around as a Force ghost and _continue_ to watch over him.”

Din wanted to laugh at the absurdity of that statement, but Luke sounded so _certain_ about it, like he was taking a _vow._ And Din couldn’t turn down the offer to ensure Grogu was protected as far into his long, long life as possible. “Alright,” he said instead.

Din felt one of Luke’s legs wrap around his calf, nudging him to draw closer. Din did him one better and lowered himself to sit on Luke’s lap. His decision earned him a broad smile, as the distant Jedi-look disappeared as Luke focused on Din completely. 

He wanted to memorize Luke’s face. The fine fringe of his bangs whispering across his forehead. Translucent eyes framed by soft eyelashes. The dimple on his chin, dotted with a pale mole, marking a path to his pink lips. Lips which Din had kissed. Lips which Din could kiss again, right now. Din closed his eyes and leaned in to do so. 

Luke met him partway. 

They melted together, closed mouths meeting. Din shifted to brush his lips against Luke’s chin, kissing the indentation there, and Luke let out a breathy gasp.

“Your mustache tickles.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Good.” Luke’s hand came to the nape of Din’s neck then slid up into his hair, pulling and pressing in turns. 

Din’s fell forward slightly, but Luke supported him. His lips were perfect like water in a desert, and Din could drink from them forever.

Luke began trailing kisses along Din’s jaw and whispered against his skin, “So what was that part about gift-giving and marriage proposals?”

“I have no idea,” Din breathed, distracted. “But it sounds sensible. Not that you need any beskar when you can block blaster bolts with your hand.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” Luke said, gasping on the last word when Din found his lips again and nipped him. “So the saber thing doesn’t mean we’re married now?”

“No!” Din huffed. “That’s not a thing.”

“You didn’t know the Darksaber made you king,” Luke pointed out cheekily. “Maybe we _are_ married.”

It was a ridiculous notion, but somehow a heady one, with the way Luke’s warm, wet breath hovered over his ear. Din considered making a joke about how just because Luke skipped from farmboy to Jedi Master at meteoric speed didn’t mean that’s how it was going to go between _them._ But instead he just kissed him again. The mood had settled into something slow and sweet, and they were kissing for the sake of kissing, neither demanding anything else.

Luke gave him one last lingering kiss, then gently pushed Din to slide off his lap and stand up. Din tugged at the cowl around his neck and calmed his breathing. 

Not long later, Din heard a door whooshing open, and Grogu was padding into the room. It was convenient that Luke could anticipate him. Grogu paused to cock his head and look at them suspiciously, and Din wondered how much he knew about what was going on between them. Luke didn’t seem to think anything of it, motioning for Grogu to come, which Grogu eagerly did, cooing as he got swept up into the Jedi’s arms. Watching Luke treat Grogu with so much affection—rather than only the cold, distant Jedi stuff that Din had worried about the last few months—made Din’s insides twist in a different sort of longing. 

Grogu wiggled out of Luke’s hold when the R2 droid rolled into the apartment. Din noticed the droid hadn’t knocked but just let itself in. He tried to remember that the droid was Luke’s friend. Artoo, he called him, like it was name rather than designation. 

The droid had rolled over to the low table in front of the sofa, where Din had spread out his Mando’a work as well as the datapad where he’d jotted down the coordinates Paz had provided him. The droid beeped to get his attention. 

“I don’t speak binary,” Din reminded it.

The blue and white droid whirred and bounced on its feet, and Grogu copied it, rocking back and forth from foot to foot. It looked like they were dancing. Din smiled despite himself. 

“What is it Artoo?” Luke asked, walking over. 

The droid emitted a complicated series of beeps.

Luke picked up one of the datapads on the table. “Din, you said you thought these were coordinates?”

Din blinked. “Aren’t they?”

“Artoo doesn’t think so. He has another idea.”

Din waved his hand. “By all means.”

Following another round of beeps, the droid began to project a spinning blue hologram map of Coruscant. A yellow blinking light appeared at one spot on the blue globe.

“Artoo says the numbers fit latitude and longitude points leading to that spot right there,” Luke said, pointing.

Din stared at the blinking yellow target. Did that mean Paz was here on Coruscant? “Can you give me a tracker or a map to get there?”

Even Din could interpret the droid’s affirmative response.

“Thank you, droi--Artoo,” Din said. Hesitatingly, he patted Artoo on its dome like he’d seen Luke do.

The droid chirped back at him with a happy sound. The droid was alright, Din supposed.

Once Din retrieved his jetpack, saber, and helmet, he found Luke pulling tall, black boots onto his feet. Earlier, Luke had changed out the clothes he’d been wearing the day and night before, and his new today was an all-black, rather tight-fitting ensemble, which wrapped across his chest. He stopped struggling with the boots when Din came to a halt in front of him. “Luke.”

Luke stared up at him, the corners of his mouth turning down. “You don’t want me to come with you, do you?”

Din shook his head. “I’m sorry. But if this is a chance to reconnect with my covert, I need to do it alone.”

“What if it’s a trap?” Luke questioned, resuming his wiggling to get the tall boot on anyway. The boot was so tight, it couldn’t possibly be practical. 

Din would prefer a trap over the non-negligible possibility that Paz was simply here to collect his armor. Din had removed his helmet and now was obligated to release his armor back to the covert to be repurposed. If somehow his covert had learned this, and that was the reason Paz was seeking him out, Din wasn’t sure what he was going to do.

Luke added carefully, “A Mandalorian did try to kill you yesterday.”

“Not the same,” Din stated firmly, shaking his head. “This one is from my covert.” Paz had been in Din’s life ever since he’d been taken in by the covert. The recent memory hung heavy of their last words to each other. Paz had spit angry words before the Armorer about Din’s imperial bounty. His knife had flashed, and his mammoth hands had lunged for Din’s helmet. But then, when Din had sought to correct his sin, to reclaim Grogu, Paz had been there by his side in the middle of the fray. Paz and the rest of the covert had protected Din and helped him to escape with his life and that of a child they didn’t even know. But at what cost? The secrecy of the covert had been compromised, opening them up to imperial attack. The pile of helmets and armor in the sewers of Nevarro that the Armorer salvaged was Din’s fault. Maybe Paz was here to collect Din’s armor for that sin alone.

“Do you need a ship? Or will your jetpack get you there?”

“Jetpack,” Din said tightly, worried thoughts swimming. “I’ll be back soon.” Din put his helmet on, sealing it in place. He stuck out his hip and fixed Luke with a look. “You’re not going to try to follow me, are you?”

“No,” Luke replied, looking surprised. “You think I’d spy on you?”

“You might deem it ‘protecting me’, from a certain point of view,” Din said, recycling Luke’s own words. 

“Din, I wouldn’t do that. You want to go alone, you’ll go alone. My offer to go with you was just that. An offer.”

And Din trusted that. Trusted Luke. “Thank you. And I _will_ be back soon.” Din swept his cape over his shoulder and left to go find Paz.

***********

Din checked the address again as he stared at the sign above the arcade. He sighed, and walked in the open door. 

The place was colorful with bad lighting. Games lined the room, some manual, some electronic, being played by beings of varying ages. It wasn’t too busy in the middle of the day. Seeing all the younglings running around shouting gleefully amidst all the games, he resolved to come back with Grogu. Gorgu would enjoy winning tickets that he could turn in for prizes. Din would just make sure he didn’t cheat with the Force, like floating the skeeball into the highest pocket. 

Din strode up to the counter and leaned against it. The woman behind the counter glanced at him, but kept working at the register. “Your friend has a game started. Upstairs.”

Din went up a creaky, narrow staircase and paused in the doorway. The large room on the second floor was empty, save a huge figure standing next to a long table. The heavily armored figure held what looked like a staff. The room was dark, but a rust-colored lamp from the ceiling cast an orange glow over the unmistakable figure of Paz Vizla. 

“Beroya,” Paz bellowed in his familiar baritone. He stretched out his hands, welcoming Din into the room. 

“Trat’aab be yaim,” Din greeted him in the same identifying way, recognizing Paz’s role as home protector of the covert, but he didn’t step forward. Eyes on the staff in Paz’s hand, Din reached for his beskar spear. He wasn’t prepared to give up his armor. He _couldn’t._

“Come, have a game.”

Din didn’t move, muscles coiled in readiness. He didn’t want to fight Paz. It never went well. But sparring with him had honed Din’s skills against larger opponents, like he’d faced on the New Republic prison ship. 

Paz was still waiting for Din to approach. “They call it pool. I’m told it’s all about angles.”

“And what’s _your_ angle here?”

“Relax, Din’ika. Our Alor didn’t send me all this way to the Core to fight with you.” 

Din was surprised by the endearment. 

Paz took a few steps towards Din, and then tossed him the staff. Din caught it in his free hand and, as he examined it, Din realized the stick in his hand wasn’t a weapon. Paz picked up a similar-looking one from a rack on the wall. 

Paz leaned over the table, where colorful balls were arranged in a triangle, and aimed the stick at a lone ball at one end. He moved his elbow and pushed the stick into the ball with a short jab, and the ball shot forward and broke up the other balls, some of which fell into pockets around the edges of the table. “I broke. Your turn. I got more stripes than solids, so now you aim to hit the white one into the solids.”

“Paz,” Din said plaintively, also forgoing formalities. “I didn’t come here to play games. I came here to talk, like you said in your message.”

Paz tilted his helm down, assessing. “You’re already playing games here on Coruscant. Political ones. What’s one more? Put away your weapon, bring that cue over here, and play. I’ll tell you everything you’re keen to know, starting with where we’ve resettled.”

Din badly wanted to know where their covert was. With a heavy sigh, he hooked his spear behind him, gripped the pool cue, and stalked to the opposite side of the table from where Paz stood. He kept one eye on Paz as he leaned down to shoot the white ball at a solid green one. The green one sank into a pocket. 

“You get to go again.”

Din rolled his eyes, but shot again. This time, the ball he was aiming for bounced off the corner. He stepped back to allow Paz to circle the table, choosing his next target. 

Din started again. “Paz--”

“Savareen,” Paz said, taking his next shot.

“Are you offering me a brandy or…?”

Paz barked a laugh. “It’s where we’ve relocated the covert.”

Din vaguely remembered a planet by the same name as the liquor. It was located in the Outer Rim, not terribly far from Mandalore. “How many are there? How many survived Nevarro?”

“A good many,” Paz answered cheerfully. “And we have new foundlings.” 

Din bowed his helm. “This is the Way.”

“This is the Way,” Paz recited. 

Din had clearly forgotten Paz’s enormous arm-span, because the distance between them suddenly shrank as Paz managed to place a hand on Din’s shoulder pauldron. Din ducked, but moving Paz’s grip was like trying to move a mountain. 

“It is good to see you,” Paz rumbled. “If you are carrying guilt for what happened on Nevarro, please don--”

“Of course I am. It was my fault.”

“It was not,” Paz insisted, putting pressure on Din’s shoulder to keep him in place. “Yes, taking that bounty from the Imps was a poor choice, as I told you before, but how can you be faulted for choosing to rectify your mistake? You chose to protect the child. And we protected you. This is _the Way.”_

Paz didn’t give Din a chance to repeat the phrase. Din could only look up at his visor.

“The path of the Mand’alore is not tread lightly. You are Mando’ad. I’m only sorry I wasn’t able to help you face the Imps who gave chase. But you managed it, didn’t you?” Paz let go of Din’s shoulder and returned to the pool game. “You have been very busy. Tell me of the little one. Alor told us you returned to Nevarro to face your enemies, including an enemy to all Mando’ade in the Night of a Thousand Tears. She told us you prevailed and were quested to reunite the child with the _Jetii._ It seems you have fulfilled your quest.” 

“I have,” Din replied. “He is well. He is with the Jedi Master--”

“Skywalker,” Paz finished for him. “Yes, I have seen the news about you two.” 

Behind his helmet, Din’s face twisted with embarrassment, wondering what kind of news Paz had seen. Outwardly, he simply squeezed the cue and took his turn to shoot two more solid-colored balls into table pockets. He missed the third.

Paz had crossed his arms, and Din traced his gaze to the saber swinging from his belt. He asked Paz, “Did you know of the Darksaber? Before, I mean?”

Paz nodded. “Clan Vizsla knows the Darksaber well.” He circled the table, looking for his next shot. “But then, what do clans matter anymore, since we went into hiding? The covert is all-important. The covert is my clan now. As it is yours.” 

Din began to see where the threads of the surprising conversation were leading. “You want me to wield it. You want me to claim Mandalore for the covert.”

Paz put the cue down on the table. He leaned down until they were the same height, watching each other across the long end of the table. The orange glow of the hanging lamp reflected off his blue armor. “The Alor has spoken to us of your path. The covert is behind you, _Mand’alor vencuyc.”_

“What about Bo-Katan Kryze?”

“We don’t trust her. We trust _you._ ”

Din wanted to just accept Paz’s support and the support of the covert. But the words of the Creed he had broken were echoing in a loop in his mind. He wanted to keep his armor, and he’d been prepared to stay silent and deal with the consequences another time. But Paz’s proposal changed everything. Could he lie about removing his helmet before Paz? Before the Alor? “There is something you should know, before you commit to that.” 

“Is this about your _Jetii?”_ Paz asked. “You are smart to form such an alliance with the strongest person in the galaxy. The Alor says so. Besides, he is cute. You managed to find a warrior even shorter than yourself, Din’ika.” 

Din muttered, “The news is not _entirely_ accurate on that topic. But, I suppose it is fair to say we have an alliance.”

“Is the aruetii not your lover? All the holofeeds say he is.”

Din clamped his mouth shut. He should never have opened it in the first place. 

“Have you taken the vows with him?” Paz inquired interestedly. 

“Of course not,” Din said quickly. Too quickly. Maybe he should have said yes, and that would give him the right to be helmetless in front of Luke, which he was doing anyway. Instead, he gritted his teeth, and unconsciously moved his hand to his blaster. “Paz, I broke the Creed. I removed my helmet to save the kid.”

“I know.”

Din froze. “What?”

“I know,” Paz repeated. “Our Alor told me.”

“Who told the Alor?”

Paz answered, “Teb Naris.”

Din didn’t recognize the name. “Who’s that?”

“A Mando’ad from another covert. Apparently someone told _him_ , someone who does not follow the Way, and _they_ heard from Koska Reeves, who also does not follow the Way.”

Din’s fists curled. Reeves had been on the bridge of Gideon’s light cruiser. She’d seen Din remove his helmet to say goodbye to Grogu.

“In our journey to find a new base for the covert, we encountered many Mandalorians coming out of the metalwork. Old clans. New clans. Neighboring coverts. The Great Reunion is coming, whether it be on Mandalore or a planet that’s a little less dead. And _you_ are going to play an important part in leading our covert and whoever chooses to follow us.”

But Din was stuck on the fact that Paz knew Din had broken the Creed but still considered him Mando’ad. He was confused, angry even, at the cavalier way that Paz dismissed Din’s admission. Just because others did not follow the way didn’t mean Din hadn’t sworn to walk the true Way. He would not be made a hypocrite. He unclipped the Darksaber from his belt and ignited it, approaching Paz threateningly. “So...because I won the Darksaber, I get a free pass to break the Creed? How can I...how can that be?”

Paz held his ground, speaking slowly in his deep, gravely voice. “This is not about making an exception for _you._ The Way has no exceptions. This is about the next stage for all our people. The age of secrecy is coming to an end. The Imps have been gone long enough. It is time to stop hiding in the bunkers. Out of the ashes of our glassed planet, we will make our stand. The need to hide our faces, to hide our _covert,_ is ending.”

Din’s tongue stuck in his dry throat. “I…”

“This is why the Alor sent me in person. She knew you would not believe it otherwise.”

“I’m not sure I believe it _now,”_ Din confessed, disengaging the saber and feeling adrift.

“It’s true. And it’s _good_ news. Try not to look so glum. Yes, I know when you look glum even beneath your buy’ce,” Paz teased. Then, his voice turned serious again. “Alor says to put aside the beroya, and follow your new path. It is no mere chance of fate that led _you_ to retake the Darksaber rather than Kryze. We know you have been working with her on Corcordia, which gives us hope that she will recognize your claim in the end. I was going to meet you there after ensuring the covert was safe on Savareen, but you came here, so Alor sent me to find you.”

Din gripped the saber tightly before reattaching it to his belt. He was trying to reconcile Paz’s words with the fears he’d brought to this meeting. Nothing was going the way he expected. It seemed too good to be true. The covert was safe and supporting him, helmetless or not. “I want to believe you,” he said.

Paz stepped around the table and raised his hands to his own blue helmet.

“Paz, don’t--”

The click and hiss of the helmet’s release was loud, even over the music that hummed from the arcade floor below. Black gloves lifted the blue helmet up and off. 

Din saw Paz’s face for the first time since they were young boys, before they were sworn to the Creed. Din stared at his rugged face, blue eyes, and the shock of white-blond hair. 

“ **Ke haa'tayl ni** ,” Paz spoke steadily, holding his helmet in the crook of his arms the same way Bo-Katan always did. “See Me, and know that _this too_ is the Way.”

Din recognized the call of the Alor in Paz’s words. It brought instant clarity. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before lifting his hands to remove his own helmet. Nervously, but with determination, he met Paz’s eyes. “ **Ke haa'tayl ni**.”

Paz nodded at him. “This is the Way.”

“This is the way,” Din repeated.

Paz made a coughing sound and broke eye contact. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to put this back on. It’s still…”

“Strange?” Din supplied, as they both put their helmets back on.

“Very strange,” Paz agreed. “Have you gotten used to it?”

Din shook his helm. “I haven’t taken it off often enough.”

Paz shoved at Din’s chest. “You should take it off in front of your _Jetii_ _ally,_ if you haven’t already. Have you sparred with him?”

“No.”

“You should,” Paz said. “I have seen footage of his battle prowess. You will lose, but if you do so with agility you will impress him. If you aren’t lovers yet, that should accomplish it.”

“Hilarious.” Din was grateful he had the helmet back on to hide his blush. 

Paz was rummaging through a satchel attached to his braided bandolier. “I did not only come with news. I come with a gift.”

“A gift?”

Paz chuckled. “When has the Alor ever sent you on a quest empty handed, Din’ika?”

Din shrugged. “I already have the Darksaber. What else could I need?”

“Wait and see!”

Whatever Paz was pulling out of his satchel gleamed in a flash of unpainted beskar. “It’s not painted yet, because you haven’t chosen your colors. But, if you ask me, I think it’d look good in gold.”

“What is it?” Din asked, his curiosity mounting as he eyed the beskar piece in Paz’s hand. Was it some sort of boomerang weapon?

“Come here, let me code it to your vambrace controls, and you’ll see for yourself.”

Din went up to Paz, feeling dwarfed by him, but held out his left vambrace eagerly. Between the two of them, they had the mysterious new weaponry activated in short order. Paz handed it over, and Din inspected the piece. It certainly demonstrated the Alor’s beautiful craftsmanship. The beskar was crescent-shaped, with the inside arc smooth and the outer edge ridged with small, triangular horns, each dotted with an inlaid, jewel-blue light when activated. It hummed in his hand, like a bird fluttering its wings. “I’m not trained in this weapon,” Din admitted. “What is it called?”

“Alor called it the Shriek-Hawk Crest.”

Din ran his gloves over it appreciatively. The Alor was familiar with the _Razor Crest._ Din wondered whether that meant this weapon was crafted specifically for him or if it was always called that. 

Paz held out his hand for Din to give it back, so he did. And then Paz was leaning over him and placing the Shriek-Hawk Crest on the back upper-curve of Din’s helmet. It clinked as it locked magnetically into place. Paz stepped back and admired it. 

“What is it?” Din asked. He paled. “Don’t tell me it’s just a crown to mark me the king of Mandalore.”

“Don’t be a di’kut, why would you need a crown?”

“It _feels_ like a crown,” Din grumbled.

“Hm. It does _resemble_ a crown. But it’s much better than that. The Alor would never craft you something so useless. The Shriek-Hawk Crest is a remote-controlled drone. You will send it flying to report on your enemies. Your HUD will display a live feed. Alor said it will take practice to get it to respond properly. Try it!” Paz encouraged, clearly as interested to see it in action as Din.

The new weapon was encoded to his existing controls, so Din focused on activating it. Like a bird taking wing, the Shriek-Hawk Crest jumped off his head and sailed across the room. Two small screens appeared in his HUD, one displaying a live camera feed and the other showed various stats, like temperature readings and audio frequencies. Din called it back to him, and it returned to land on his head, clamping into place on his helmet. “Woah.”

Paz whistled as a sign of his own praise, then said, “Alor said to tell you that part of being a great leader is being greatly informed.”

Din nodded. Alor’s words were always wise. 

“It also has a code scrambler feature,” Paz added. “The range is pretty far, but you’ll have to test that out. Use it well.”

“Thank you for bringing it,” Din said sincerely. “Tell the Alor I am honored.”

“And I was honored to be chosen to bring it to you, _Mand’alor.”_

“I’m not Mand’alor yet,” Din protested, just as he had to Leia. 

“Future Mand’alor just doesn’t have the same ring,” Paz said, amused.

Din put aside his excitement about his new weapon long enough to remember the other thing he wanted to talk to Paz about. “Speaking of code scrambling, Skywalker found some Mandalorian relics here on Coruscant. I translated one of them the best I could, and I want you to tell me if it means what I think it does.”

They went and sat at a table, and Din spread out the old Mando’a parchment he’d folded into his satchel. He also retrieved the datapad with his primer and rough translation. “I think it’s talking about some sort of secret cache underground on Mandalore.”

Paz spent time looking back and forth between the original Mando’a and Din’s translation. He made a few marks. Eventually, he tilted his visor up at Din. “Not just any cache. This speaks of a secret vault, buried deep underground, close to the planet’s core.”

“Which means it might not have been plundered by the Imps,” Din concluded. “And it might still be protected from what happened to the planet’s surface.”

“And it’s full of beskar.”

“That’s what it says,” Din agreed animatedly. “And tons of other metals and precious stones, too. I couldn’t translate them all.”

“If we could get to it…” Paz began, voice rising.

“We’d have the resources to rebuild,” Din said, emotion inflecting his voice. “We could sell the base metals and stones for credits, while making full beskar’gam for every eligible Mando’ad.”

“This is an incredible find. I will tell the Alor. We could organize an expedition.”

“Bo-Katan will want to be involved. We’ve been down in a special ship. It’s _not_ the unsalvageable wasteland we were told,” Din promised. “This is it. This is the key.”

Paz reached across the table, and they clasped their arms in solidarity. “Alor was right. The future Mand’alor leads us into the age of reunion.”

The moment was interrupted by the sound of Din’s communicator buzzing. 

_Zzzzzzzz._

_Zzzzz._

_Zzzzz._

Din flipped on the receiver, leaving it on speaker volume. “Yes.”

“Din.”

Din recognized Luke’s voice immediately. “Luke, what’s wrong?” he demanded, jumping to his feet. Luke sounded uncharacteristically out of breath. 

“I’m fine,” Luke assured. “But I was attacked, and now I’ve caught myself a prisoner. A Mandalorian prisoner. Uh, also? I could use a lift.”

Din exchanged a look with Paz, who made a hand sign offering aid. “We’ll be right there.”

***********

When Din and Paz found Luke in a lonely alley on one of Coruscant’s lower levels, he was sitting comfortably next to a slumped figure wearing Mandalorian armor, mostly unpainted but with pink pauldrons and matching pink stripes across the helm. Din observed that Luke had cuffed the Mandalorian, likely with their own cuffs. Din approved. 

But despite Luke’s calm expression, Din could see that he had a light sheen from exertion, and his hair and clothes were rumpled. “Luke, are you okay?” Din asked, rushing to Luke’s side. He glanced up at the seemingly endless living levels above them. “You didn’t fall all this way, did you?”

Luke looked up at him innocently. “What do you call a controlled fall? A dive?”

“You can fly?” Paz asked from Din’s side.

“He can’t _fly,”_ Din denied. But then, ‘a controlled fall’ did imply something close to flying. “He’s a gifted pilot, but he doesn’t have a jetpack.” To Luke he said, “This one was chasing you, right? You didn’t jump, did you?”

“Eh…”

“Luke!”

Luke ran a hand through his hair, making the fluffy mop stick out in even more directions. “Actually, we were lower than this. I started Force leaping up level by level, carrying Mando here, but it was getting to be a pain. Plus, we were getting too many stares.” Luke blinked at him sweetly. “I didn’t want the tabloids to start rumors that I was cheating on you.”

Paz laughed loudly. “I like this one, Din’ika. He’s funny.”

Luke’s eyes narrowed slightly. _“This_ one?”

Din sighed and changed the topic to introductions. He gestured from Paz to Luke. “This is Luke Skywalker, Jedi Master. Luke, this is the home protector of my covert.” Din knew it was awkward to introduce someone without providing a name, but it usually wasn’t the case that there was more than one of them outside the covert at a time, much less needing to be identified as anything other than ‘Mando.’ 

Luke stood up and wiped his hands on his black pants. “Pleased to meet you, Mando.”

To Din’s surprise, Paz gave Luke his name. “You may call me Paz.” But then he took Luke’s offered hand and shook it hard, making the Jedi stumble at the taste of Paz’s strength. _Show-off._

Luke took it in stride. “Paz. I’m delighted to meet someone from Din’s covert.” Luke glanced at Din, and Din knew he was wondering if everything was okay between the two Mandalorians and how much Din had told Paz about his removing his helmet, the Darksaber, or the tabloids. Luke then turned to the unmoving figure on the ground. “We should get somewhere safe to interrogate this one.”

“They’re not dead?” Paz asked, nudging the fallen Mandalorian with his boot. 

Luke shook his head.

Paz bent down and hauled the slumped form up into his arms. The unconscious Mandalorian was much smaller than Paz, and Paz held them easily, cradling them like a child. “Din’ika, you take your _Jetii_ and lead the way.”

Din had lost count of the number of times Paz had called Luke ‘your Jetii.’ Given their differing proportions, it made no _logical_ sense for Din to carry Luke, who was only slightly shorter than him. But Paz had already ignited his jetpack and stepped up off the ground into the Rising Phoenix.

Luke grinned and opened his arms. “How do you want me?”

Din leaned into his hip as he regarded the too-eager Jedi who smiled too prettily at him. “You should have called for ship transport.”

“Why would I do that when _you_ were in the neighborhood?” 

Torn between pleased and irritated, Din maneuvered Luke into a manageable position more roughly than necessary, shoving him forward and grabbing his elbow. “I’m not your personal valet,” he growled.

Luke let himself get pushed around, and his smile didn’t let up at all being on the receiving end of Din’s aggression. 

Luke was goading him. And Din found he liked it.

“Maybe I should cuff you, too,” Din taunted, just to see how Luke would react. As he pressed his front to Luke’s back, he wrapped one hand around Luke’s upper chest and secured his other hand on Luke’s hip.

“That’s what all the bounty hunters say,” Luke said, even as his hand found Din’s wrist. Lightning-fast, he insinuated two fingers between Din’s sleeve and glove, finding skin with expert precision. The strategic touch was clearly done to set Din off balance. “If you cuff my wrist to yours, at least I know you won’t drop me,” Luke suggested impishly.

“You mean I won’t drop you no matter how much of a _chaya’ika_ you’re being,” Din told him. 

Din didn’t give Luke a chance to respond before he tightened his grip, fisting the fabric on Luke’s chest and digging his gloves around the jut of Luke’s hip. He engaged the thrusters of his jet pack, bent his knees, and launched them into flight. 

He quickly caught up with Paz, and then took the lead. 

Flying always thrilled Din. The many layers of Coruscant’s habitable layers whizzed by Din’s vision in between strands of Luke’s hair flying wildly across his visor. 

He found he needed to wrap his lower arm around Luke too, and hook a leg around one of Luke’s, to make sure he didn’t actually risk dropping him. 

Finally, they reached the level with Luke’s building, and Din flew them to the closest landing platform. He touched down with less grace than he’d intended, failing to adequately adjust for the weight distribution, and he nearly toppled on top of Luke, who braced them on bent knees and one hand on the deck. “Sorry,” Din murmured from where he draped over Luke’s back. 

As they righted themselves, Luke mistook his bad-landing apology for the whole flight, “Don’t be sorry. That was fun!”

Luke twisted around as they found their footing, but otherwise didn’t seem hurried to escape Din’s hold. Din was equally slow to release him.

Paz’s booming voice drew Din’s attention. “Come on, beroy’ike. Don’t dawdle. Save it for the _kyrbej.”_

Din jumped back from Luke like he’d taken too big a taste of freshly prepared tiingilar, blushing at Paz’s use of the common innuendo implying ‘bedroom’ from ‘battlefield.’

Luke walked towards the entrance to the main building. “Let’s find an empty room and wake up our guest. I’ve got some questions.”

“So do I,” Din stated, falling in step behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I picked Savereen to channel The Mandalorian's western cowboy themes because it looks like the American West [paintings by Albert Bierstadt](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Albert_Bierstadt), according to the 1995 Star Wars Illustrated Universe.  
> It is also an in-universe type of brandy.  
> Shriek hawks are native to Mandalore, and that's the extent of my knowledge about them.
> 
> Mando'a translations:  
> Alor = leader, chief (here, the Armorer)  
> Beroya = hunter  
> Beroy'ike = hunters (affectionate)  
> Trat’aab be yaim = protector of home  
> Mand’alor vencuyc = future Mand'alor  
> Aruetii = outsider, non-Mando, can also mean traitor  
> Buy’ce = helmet  
> Ke haa'tayl ni = see me (imperative)  
> Di’kut = idiot  
> Chaya’ika = tease (affectionate)  
> Kyrbej = battlefield  
> Tiingilar = very spicy casserole


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke whispered at him, “It’s why her braids are piled so high on her head. They’re full of secrets.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lightsaber duels, tickle fights, sworn allegiances, more making out...it's a busy day on Coruscant for the jetpacking duo. Luke is just happy to have Din around. The FLUFF is strong in this one.

Before they could rouse and interrogate the Mandalorian in the black and pink armor who’d unwisely chosen to pick a fight with a Jedi, they had to check on Grogu. 

Grogu was _not_ in Luke’s quarters, and Din had to trust Luke’s instincts that he couldn’t be far. His internal alarms were ringing, but Luke was a steady presence at his side. The Jedi was, unsurprisingly, unfazed. Din wondered if Luke actually wasn’t worried or if he just hid it better.

“Don’t you keep your quarters locked?” Din couldn’t help asking.

“Don’t you think he’s figured out how to open locks?” 

They left Paz with the unconscious Mandalorian in Luke’s quarters and went searching for Grogu. Luke followed his senses to Leia’s suite, which was located on the same floor. 

Swiveling around in a console chair, Leia appraised them with nothing more than a raised eyebrow. She was wearing a different jumpsuit, this one paired with a long open cape featuring a high neckline. Her braided hair added several inches to her height. After seeing that Grogu was sitting on the chair next to her, clearly fine, Din became distracted by the fact that Leia was surrounded by screens. She appeared to be monitoring every news site in the New Republic, in addition to a host of security cams. 

Luke whispered at him, “It’s why her braids are piled so high on her head. They’re full of secrets.”

Din’s eyes were drawn to one of the monitors that was already showing footage of him flying back up to the building while holding Luke in his arms. He reviewed the footage a bit wistfully. Flying with Luke had really been something. Din wanted to fly with him again. But more to the point, “How are they _already_ airing this?”

“That’s Red Five Flashnews,” Leia commented, guessing which screen had caught his attention. “They get the news _in a flash.”_

Other screens showed obnoxious headlines: 

_Lovers’ Joyride_

_Mile High Club_

And worst:

_What is the Mand’alor jetPACKING in his pants?_

On a different screen, the purple bird-like humanoids from whom Din had sought directions were speaking to the holoprojector. Din pointed, “Does this have sound?”

“Oh sure,” Leia said, and the selected screen enlarged and the audio track began playing.

 _“...*trill!* and then I asked whether he was dating Master Skywalker, and he said_ yes!”

The purple beings trilled loudly, and Leia winced at the piercing sound, cutting off the audio again. She pinned her gaze on Din’s helmet. “Giving interviews now, are we?” she asked dryly. 

Din cleared his throat awkwardly. “I needed directions. They asked whether I was talking to him. Which, well, of _course_ I am. How else would we communicate?”

Leia’s eyes flicked upwards, but the tone of her reply was patient. “That slang, sweetheart. You just confirmed all the rumors that you’re dating.”

Luke elbowed him. “Well, they’re not wro--”

Din elbowed him back. “Cultural miscommunication,” Din insisted. “I said nothing of the sort.”

Leia made a humming sound and tapped the console. “Maybe it’s time to take this into our own hands. Get ahead of it. Maybe it’s time for you two to take on the interview circuit.”

“Nooooo,” Luke groaned, grabbing onto Din’s shoulder. “Leia, you _know_ how I feel about _personal interviews._ And Din here would never agree to--”

“What kind of interview?” Din asked.

“We’d pick a tasteful talkshow host--” Leia began.

“Doesn’t exist,” Luke interjected.

“--and make sure the questions are pre-vetted--”

Luke muttered, “They’d never stick to the cards.”

“--and you’d have a chance to quash any rumors you don’t like--”

“While spawning _new_ ones,” Luke griped.

“--and that’s it. Pretty harmless,” Leia ended.

“Pretty harmful,” Luke finished.

Din tilted his helmet thoughtfully. “A little buzzing in my ear is giving the vague impression that Luke doesn’t want to do this. But thank you for the offer to arrange it. We’ll think about it.”

Luke emitted a wounded sound at his side, which Din ignored. Din didn’t like surprises. He liked having a plan and taking charge of a situation. Leia was right. It might be better to control the narrative, if the people of the New Republic couldn’t help but spin story after story. _Lovers’ Joyride,_ indeed. He’d just have to convince Luke of the strategic value in it. 

Unless Luke didn’t _want_ people to know that they were romantically involved? But earlier Luke had said he’d initially hid them from the paparazzi because he hadn’t wanted to offend _Din._ He’d said that he’d _never_ not want to be seen with Din. But on the other hand, Luke had made that declaration before anything had happened between them. Before they’d kissed. Maybe the reality of exploring this connection between them was making the Jedi reconsider. Maybe Luke was leery of stoking the ire of his loyal fanclub. Luke had a reputation to maintain here, after all. Din was the one who was just visiting. Din didn’t have a place here at Luke’s side. His place was on Mandalore. 

Din scooped up Grogu, in part just to have something to do with his hands as he fretted. And holding Grogu was calming. Din felt more sure of himself and his place in the universe when he held Grogu. For his part, Grogu let himself be held agreeably, snuggling against Din’s cowl. 

“We’ve got an interrogation to do,” Luke reminded. “Maybe we should leave him here.”

Din demurred. “He’s seen worse.”

Perhaps sensing that Din was not about to let go of Grogu anytime soon, Luke didn’t press the issue as they went back to his quarters. 

The scene that greeted them was...unexpected.

The small Mandalorian had the larger one locked in a wrestling hold. Chairs were knocked over. Wall hangings were askew. 

“What’s going on here?” Din demanded.

“I was just giving the ad’ika some tips on her form,” Paz explained.

“I can take you on any day, old man.”

“Old!? I’m in my prime!”

“You move as slow as you are large!”

Din moved to enter the fray, but before he could do so, Paz brought an end to the tussle by positioning his massive form on top of his opponent. 

“Don’t squash me!”

“Are you going to yield?”

“Fine, fine, I yield.”

Paz stood up and offered his hand to help the other Mandalorian up, too. But they crossed their hands over their chest and refused. 

Din was done wasting time. Passing Grogu to Luke, he grabbed the stranger and shoved them face forward against the wall, handcuffing them again. “Who are you and why did you attack the Jedi?”

“Her name’s Arla,” Paz said from behind him. “She’s just a kid, Din.”

“I don’t care,” Din said gruffly, not letting up his hold. “Why?”

“I’m not gonna tell you!” came the high-pitched shout from under the black and pink helmet. 

“Din,” Paz started.

And then Luke’s hand was on Din’s shoulder. “Maybe let me talk to her? I’m the one she attacked, after all.”

Din perceived he was the only one in the room taking the small Mandalorian as a real threat. Teen or not, she’d attacked Luke. If she was old enough to put on the helmet, she was old enough to be trained to fight. Din liked to think he’d been pretty dangerous when he’d first sworn the Creed and put on his buy’ce. But Luke and Paz were being _soft._ “Fine,” he said, tapping to release the cuffs and backing away several steps. “But if she gets the better of either of you, it’s not my fault.”

After a bit of reshuffling, Arla was sitting on the sofa with Luke, while Din and Paz were hovering nearby. Grogo had wandered off to the kitchen, probably in search of snacks.

“Why did you attack me?” Luke asked searchingly. Din wondered if he was using the Force to encourage Arla to answer.

The helmeted head shook slightly. “Because I saw on the holonet that he gave you the Darksaber. I thought you might still have it.”

“Why do you need the Darksaber?”

“Why does any Mandalorian need it?” Arla shrugged. “To bring glory and honor to my covert.”

Luke looked pensive. “You’re trying to prove yourself.”

“I have a lot to prove. I’m the smallest of my cohort. No one takes me seriously.”

Paz rumbled. “Mand’alor here was the smallest of his cohort, too. But look at him now! He’s got more tricks than you’d think. Do not let your size define you.”

Din rolled his eyes. “She’s already sworn the Creed, Paz, you can’t adopt her as a foundling.”

“Hush, Din’ika, I will not hold back advice when I see fit to give it.”

“Paz is right,” Luke agreed. “Judge someone by their size, you should not.”

“Oh please, I can think of at least a _few_ scenarios in which size does matter, especially if any of the holos about you two are true,” Arla said suggestively.

Din’s tongue tripped over her audacity, but he managed to redirect back to the issue at hand, “Are we likely to encounter anyone else from your covert looking to prove themselves?”

“Probably,” Arla said. “And not just my covert. A lot of Mando’ade would like to wield that blade. No one’s seen it in years, not since the Purge.”

Din sighed. “Great.”

“You haven’t exactly been subtle about your presence here,” Arla said. “Everyone knows where you are, _wannabe Mand’alor.”_

She was right. Not only had Din not considered the implications of the Darksaber, he hadn’t considered that his presence in the heart of the New Republic might matter to anyone but himself. 

Paz spoke up, “Arla, do you even know how he obtained the Darksaber?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.”

“It _matters,”_ Paz urged. “He is fit to wield it to usher in the Age of Reunion. He won it in combat against Moff Gideon, the ISB agent who oversaw the night of a thousand tears.”

“What?!” Arla jumped to her feet and looked at Din. “Is this true?”

“It’s true,” Din affirmed.

Luke added, “I was there for part of it. I can confirm he helped take over Gideon’s light cruiser and took him prisoner.”

Arla seemed to pause and think this over. Then, she approached Din and raised her buy’ce high. “I hereby formally challenge you for the Darksaber.”

Din regarded her stance and the sincerity in her voice. To scoff at the challenge would be rude. To reject it would be dishonorable for both of them. He sighed again. “I will honor your challenge...on one condition.”

“Din...” Luke said warily from the side.

“If I best you in the duel,” Din continued, “then you will tell the rest of your covert about what you learned here. You will tell them how I won the Darksaber in combat against the Imps who glassed our planet. And you will ask your covert not to further challenge me but instead to follow me when I call. And if others outside your covert ask, you will tell them the same.”

Arla’s helmet dipped respectfully. “Elek. I will honor your condition.” And then she backed up and reached behind her and brought out a rod, which extended into a metal staff that gleamed in her hand. “ _If_ you win.”

Din brandished his beskar spear. “Very well.”

“Yes! A proper duel!” Paz cheered.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Luke intervened, moving to stand between Din and Arla and holding one palm facing Din and one palm facing Arla. Between one heartbeat and the next, both of their weapons were yanked out of their hands. They floated in the air towards Luke. “First of all, no fighting, no _weapons,_ in my living room.” 

Luke confiscated Din’s spear and Arla’s staff before shoving both into Paz’s hands, “Hold these, please.” 

Then Luke directed his attention to Arla, “Second of all, would you please give us a moment?” 

Luke grabbed Din by the elbow and dragged him to his bedroom and shut the door. Although his tone was placid, it was belied by the harsh grip he had on Din’s arm between his vambrace and pauldron. “What are you _doing, Din?”_

Din blinked at him. “Are you worried I might lose? That’s disheartening. I can assure you, I’m--”

“No, that’s not it,” Luke said, shaking his head. “She’s just a _kid,_ Din, you might kill her.”

Din was genuinely puzzled. He placed his own hand on top of Luke’s. “She is Mando’ad. And why would I do that? I need her to carry that message.”

“Why do you two need to fight?” Luke asked. “I already bested her. And Paz seems to like her. What’s the point of this?”

Din considered how to explain the challenge. Luke had been so good at explaining Jedi stuff, but Din felt like he was floundering to explain Mandalorian mores. Mandalorians didn’t solve these situations through peaceful negotiations. They weren’t the Republic. And they weren’t Jedi, either. There were formalities to be observed. Ritual battles. He still remembered winning his duel against Paz and earning his right to leave the covert as a beroya. 

Eventually, Din said, “She made a formal request. I have to honor it, for her sake as well as mine. It’s--” _the Way,_ he wanted to say but instead said, “tradition.” He added, “For all her bluster, I think she _wants_ to yield. I just need to allow her to do so with her honor intact. Plus, if I do ascend to the position of Mand’alor, she’ll have the honor of having dueled me, which few will be able to claim.” He paused, and amended, “Well, few will be able to claim unless other Mando’ade continue to follow me here to Coruscant.”

“I think I understand.” Luke’s face had softened. “And, just to put this out there, _we don’t have to stay here.”_

 _We._ He’d say _we._ Foolish hope flared in Din’s chest. He thought about how Leia had said Luke wanted to leave Coruscant behind and start a Jedi training facility on a remote planet. What if they did that together? What if Din let Arla win and take the Darksaber, and he and Grogu went to Yavin IV with Luke and just…

Just _what?_ Din could take a break, but he couldn’t abandon his covert or his people. He couldn’t toss aside the responsibility that had come to him through his own choices. The Alor didn’t think it was mere coincidence that Din had won the Darksaber from Gideon. Every step Din had taken since trying to atone for his sin of collecting the bounty on Grogu had led him to where he was now. He couldn’t ignore the weight of the Darksaber at his hip, just as he couldn’t ignore the weight of Luke’s gaze. It seared into him with a fierceness he wasn’t equipped to fight and didn’t want to fight. He wanted to be with Luke, but he couldn’t hide out forever from the galaxy under his robes. 

Din slowly peeled Luke’s hand away. “We can talk about that. But for now, I have a duel to win.”

Luke studied him and looked like he was about to say something else. But then he nodded, and they returned to the main room. Luke picked up Grogu and waved at the trio of Mandalorians to follow him. Din was sure they made a strange sight: three heavily armored warriors flanking a small man with a baby.

A short bit of travel later, they found themselves in a training salle. It was spacious with an arched ceiling. Eyeing the space, Din thought it was large enough that he could even use his jetpack. But they’d agreed not to use blasters, salvos, or any other armor accoutrements. 

On the sidelines, Paz was as excited as Luke was somber. Luke was sitting with his hands folded in his lap. After Paz had passed their weapons back to them, Grogu had decided that Paz was the fun one and demanded to be held high up on the blue shoulder pauldron. 

Din stretched, using the beskar spear to steady himself as he executed a series of lunges. He’d been including the spear in his training sessions more and more recently. He’d been quite good with a staff when he was growing up in the fighting corps, and the regimented movements he’d practiced over and over had served him well on Gideon’s ship, coming back to him easily. The spear felt right in his hands. He twirled it now proudly, letting the flash of the beskar ping off his vambrace to show Arla what he was working with.

Arla was hopping back and forth on the balls of her feet, ready to begin. But Din didn’t rush himself. He wanted to do this right. He wanted to win swiftly and decisively, leaving no question of his worth. Arla was young. She represented the new generation. Din had to show her that he was fit to be her leader, if was determined to follow that path.

They faced each other and exchanged shallow bows, clanging their weapons on the ground to signal the start of the duel. “Vi akaanir par ijaat.”

“Vi akaanir par ijaat.”

Din circled Arla intently, looking for weaknesses. She had solid form, her staff held protectively across her chest but not too close to prevent her from jabbing it in offense. 

As Din prepared to make the first strike, Arla crouched down, then leapt at him.

When their weapons clashed, Arla swept downwards, nearly sliding between Din’s legs, clearly attempting to sweep him off his feet. But Din spun around, flipping his spear over his head to clank against Arla’s beskar buy’ce as she skidded under and past him. The sound rang loudly, and Din knew she’d need a moment to recover.

She shook it off and put some distance between them. 

Din waited to let her make the next move. He wasn’t waiting long.

Arla came running at him at full force, but at the last minute she stabbed her staff down at the ground and used it to swing her body around into a double-kick. Din saw it coming and moved with it, rotating his stance and spinning with the kick until he was facing her again and jabbed forward with his spear. 

She let loose a muffled groan as the hit landed on her side, but hurriedly got her staff up in a defensive pose.

Din retracted the spear and then struck forward with it, bringing the two weapons together in a hard clang.

_Brrrrannnnng!_

Metal shrieked.

Arla’s staff _shattered_ at the point of impact, leaving her holding only a third of the weapon. She threw it down on the ground and kneeled, buy’ce down.

“I yield. Gar parji.”

Din brought his spear back to a resting hold with a flourish. “I accept the win.” He offered her a hand up, and she took it. “Well fought,” he commended. “Sorry about your staff.”

“Are you kidding? That was incredible. I can’t believe you don’t just have the Darksaber but you have a spear of pure beskar. You are _badass!”_

Din grinned behind his helmet, but aloud he simply said, “Will you honor our agreement?”

Arla nodded. “I will carry your message, Mand’alor.” And this time when she addressed him by the title, it wasn’t said in jest. “When you call us home, I will follow.”

Din mused, “You’ve never been there, have you? To Mandalore?”

“No,” Arla confirmed. “But somehow it’s still home, you know?”

“I do,” Din said meaningfully. No matter how scattered Mando’ade were across the galaxy, Mandalore would remain their ancestral homeland, and its broken song would call them back again and again. Din would call them back, when it was time.

“Vor entye, Mand’alor,” Arla thanked him in parting. “For the duel, and for what is to come.”

“Ba’gedet’ye,” Din returned. 

Paz approached them, having put Grogu down to sit on the bench along the sidelines. “Well done, Mand’alor!” he crowed, patting Din roughly just above his jetpack. “And you, little Lioness,” he said to Arla. “You fought skillfully. I am sure we will see you again.”

Arla shuffled her feet. “Maybe you could come with me to the spaceport, Vizsla? I have to hop a ship, and while I wait, you could tell me some stories about this one?” she gestured towards Din.

Din sighed, knowing Paz would never turn down a chance to hear more of the sound of his own voice. It was rare that Paz guarded the covert without a small flock of young Mandalorians at his boots, hanging on his every word as he spun stories.

“Yes, I will accompany you,” Paz accepted happily. “I need to make contact with our Alor anyway.” 

“Just know that half of what he says might be a lie,” Din cautioned. 

“Jehaate!” Paz denied, but he was chuckling. He leaned his buy’ce close to Din and whispered, “Your Jedi was impressed. You should take him on next. Give him a run for his credits.”

Din snorted and pushed the bigger Mandalorian off. “ _Go,”_ he implored. “And as you’re telling stories about me, _please_ remember to let me keep some dignity. I’ll need it if I’m to follow the path Alor set me for me.”

“You think you have dignity left to protect, Din’ika?” Paz teased. “I am thinking you’ll have to start building that from scratch.”

“Not a problem,” Din replied smoothly. “Come back here with that kind of talk and I’ll take _you_ on next. It’ll be a repeat of my beroya trials.”

“Ha! You wish. But I will be back. Until then,” Paz brought their helms together with a soft clink, “Be well. This is the Way.”

“This is the Way.” 

Paz gave him a brief salute, and then he and Arla activated their jetpacks and sailed out through the double-doors and into the Coruscant sky.

Din shook his head ruefully. Paz was a handful. But it was so good to reconnect with him. And just now, Din was still energized from the short duel with Arla. His adrenaline was pumping, so he went back to spinning his spear in a variety of practice moves. Arla wasn’t the only one who could do jumps. And he was warmed up enough now that he could try to execute a few of the more complicated aerial twists. He never turned down an opportunity to hone his skills. 

Even as he practiced—definitely not showing off a little—Din tracked Luke’s movements as the Jedi left Grogu sitting contently on the bench and came closer and closer to striking range. 

When he was just out of reach, Din said absently, “You know, Paz thinks we should spar.”

“I think I’d embarrass myself,” Luke said. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: you distract me.”

Din smirked. “Are you worried you wouldn’t be able to think with your hands on me?”

 _“You_ wouldn’t be able to think with my hands on you.”

Din kept spinning the spear, manipulating it into a complicated attack pattern. “That’s kind of the point of sparring, isn’t it? Hands on.”

“Mm. The way you’re handling that spear, I bet I could teach you a few katas.”

“What are katas?”

“Jedi fighting forms. With a saber. There are different mastery levels. A lot of the advanced ones are meant to be done in pairs. Leia hasn’t put in the time...and Grogu won’t be at those levels for many years. It’d be nice to have someone to run them with.”

Din slowed his movements so that he could get a better look at Luke from behind his visor. “You want to share sacred Jedi secrets with me?”

“I don’t know how sacred or secret they are, but yeah?” Luke was shrugging. “You already know how to fight. And you’ve got the Darksaber. I think it’d be brilliant. I think you’d be brilliant.”

Din was flattered. “I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, but I’m no Jedi. I won’t be able to do any of the stuff you can do.”

“We’ll modify it. Please, Din?” Luke cajoled.

“Alright. But only if you beat me in a match right now.”

“Now?”

“Right now.”

Luke narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure you’re not too tired?”

“I’m sure.” To emphasize his point, he threw the spear up in the air in a twist, intending to catch it again. 

But Luke jumped in front of him and caught it instead in his black-gloved hand. “I don’t know…” Luke murmured, pressing the captured spear between their bodies as he stood chest to chest with Din. “Maybe you should lift up your helmet, and I’ll tell you if you look tired or not.”

Din knew he was just teasing, but seeing as they were alone except for Grogu on the sidelines...He tilted up his helmet and peeked at Luke from under the rim. 

“Beautiful,” Luke breathed.

Embarrassed, Din let the helmet fall back over his face. Luke sounded _besotted._ “Are you _sure_ you didn’t buy into Grogu’s claim that the stars shine brighter because of me?” 

“Hm, Grogu and I might have to agree on that. Come on, then, I’ll just have to concentrate to avoid being blinded by your _shining aura._ Let’s see how you wield that fancy blade that apparently gives you claim to a whole planet.” Luke stepped back and shed his Jedi robes. “Let me just tell Grogu what we’re going to do so he doesn’t get upset or confused and try to intervene.”

While Luke retreated to speak to Grogu, pointing at Din and then at himself and speaking animatedly, Din retrieved the Darksaber from his belt. He felt the weight of it in his hands. He hadn’t practiced with it much yet. In some ways, he’d been actively avoiding it. But no longer. He strengthened his grip and thumbed it on with a _snap-hiss._ Din watched as the black blade, bleeding with lightning, extended and hummed in the air. 

It was soon joined by the higher-pitched hum of Luke’s saber. Luke’s pale skin glowed green under its light as he held it straight up in front of him with both hands. 

“Any grounds rules?” Din asked. 

“Just defend yourself the best you can. And don’t get hit.”

 _Ah oh, that wasn’t foreboding at all, was it?_ Din glanced at Luke’s black-gloved hand, remembering how he’d lost it in a lightsaber duel. 

Luke appeared to be waiting for Din to approach, so he did, slowly. They exchanged a few tentative blows, just giving Din a taste of the explosive energy as the blades clashed together, sparking a very different kind of vibration than when he’d fought Gideon with the beskar spear. The Darksaber wasn’t responding to Luke’s saber in the same way. It was almost as if the two lightsabers were drawn together and repelled in turn, charged and cackling with electricity. 

Eventually, he was getting the hang of it, and Luke started testing out some more offensive strikes. Din blocked them with intense focus, not wasting any attention on unnecessary feints or bluffs. He strictly parried. 

But he realized he was still losing ground. Luke was advancing, pressing Din backwards stroke by stroke of the green saber. Din felt so outmatched. It was as if Luke’s increasingly fast strikes weren’t coming just from the strength of his trimly corded arms but rather from an outside energy source infusing him. The Force was making him far more powerful than his lightly muscled form suggested. 

Luke launched into a three-prong attack. The last slash of his saber landed so hard against the Darksaber that Din lost his grip on the hilt. The Darksaber shorted out and clattered to the ground, skidding across the salle floor. 

Frustrated, Din didn’t want to yield. He jammed down on his vambrace to activate his flamethrower, hoping to get Luke to back off. The flames did nothing but make Luke retaliate. And he retaliated _hard._

Din was suddenly _slammed_ by an invisible force up against the wall behind him that was closer than he realized. His feet dangled. He felt like a bug caught in a spider’s web of invisible silk. The ‘duel’ was going to be over immediately if Din didn’t think of something fast. 

Din managed to start his jetpack. The twin burns of the rockets on his back freed him from the wall. Rather than fly away, he flew up at an angle just enough to gain the higher ground, then launched his grappling line. It was the only weakness Din had observed so far. 

Din’s ploy achieved its intended distraction. The grappling line snaked around Luke’s feet and yanked him down. 

Luke fell with a thud and a yell. His green lightsaber slipped from his hand. 

Before Luke could call the saber back to him, Din was on him. 

Din wrestled him, trying to use his larger frame to secure an advantage over the flailing limbs. He successfully got Luke flipped over onto his stomach. He jammed his knee in the small of Luke’s back, pinning him. At the same time, he twisted Luke’s arms behind his back and speedily snatched his handcuffs and got them to lock in place around both narrow wrists. He didn’t risk easing up, but he could feel and hear that they were both breathing hard. 

But to Din’s consternation, the cuffs suddenly just...fell apart, as if the locking mechanism had never engaged in the first place. Except that Din _knew_ it had. As the handcuffs parted uselessly, Din’s visor alerted him to the incoming arc of the hilt of Luke’s saber sailing towards Luke’s now-freed hands.

Din had only a split-second to act. He tapped his newest control sequence and sent the Shriek-Hawk Crest flying to intercept the saber. 

_Smack!_

The Crest hit the hilt of Luke’s saber head-on, sending it flying towards Din’s outstretched hand rather than Luke’s. As soon as it was in his grip, he flipped it on and held the humming green blade over the back of Luke’s neck. “Yield,” Din demanded. 

Luke’s hands were scrambling, so with his free hand, Din held them down, his larger hand wrapping around as many of Luke’s fingers as possible. At the same time, he dug his knee harder into Luke’s lower back. “Yield.”

All of a sudden, Din felt a foreign sensation skate across his skin. A tingling. The sensation happened again, and this time he felt the tingle ripple across his lower side and beneath the soles of his feet. It was somehow both pleasant and terrible at the same time. He felt a laugh bubble up inside him, and he bit his lip to keep it in. The sensations began to repeat in an unpredictable pattern, and Din’s body spasmed as he _yelped_ and rolled to his side, laughing, the saber falling harmlessly away and shutting off. The wonderful/awful assault continued, and he was laughing so hard he had tears coming from his eyes. 

“Not fair!” he screeched. Luke was using the Force to tickle him mercilessly. Din could not control his body as he writhed under the onslaught, giggling in the highest pitch he’d ever heard himself reach.

And then Luke and Grogu were both on him, tickling him for real in addition to the invisible hands. It was blissful torture. Din could not stop the tears that sprang from his eyes or the sounds he was making, that were much too close to squeaks. He pried off his helmet, and Grogu’s tiny nails scratched at his cheek, which was wet with tears from laughing too hard. 

Luke was looking down at him, laughing, too. Ducking safely around Grogu, Din lunged for Luke, intent on tickling him back. But although Luke was still laughing, Din was clearly not getting the same reaction out of him, even digging in blunt fingers at his armpits, his sides...nothing. 

“I’m just not ticklish!” Luke explained apologetically. “Not like you!” 

Din was too happy and exhausted to be upset about Luke’s non-ticklishness or the unfinished fight. He flopped onto his back, and Grogu kept trying to tickle him. But with his armor and many layers, it was more cute than effective. Grogu giggled and cooed, delighted to play this new game. 

“You’ve created a monster,” Din warned Luke. 

“Yes, an absolutely terrifying tickle monster,” Luke said solemnly. “You shouldn’t sleep with him tonight. He might attack you in your sleep. You’ll be safer with me.” 

“Mm, you think so?” 

Luke passed him his helmet, and it was strange but nice when Luke helped place the helmet back on his head. 

“Yeah. Come on. Let’s go home.”

Din knew Luke meant his quarters. Luke’s home. Or at least one of his homes. But the idea of feeling _at home_ with Luke was so appealing that it felt dangerous. Din knew he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it. He was actually a little surprised at himself, since he’d just reunited with Paz, and if anyone could make him feel like home, it should be his covert brother, right? And yet, as happy as he was to see Paz, it was Luke’s warm smile and whisper of ‘home’ that had Din feeling a gratifying tightness in his chest. 

Grogu and sabers safely in hand, they went back to Luke’s quarters. After a light dinner, Luke used the refresher to wash up while Din put Grogu to bed. Then they switched, and Din used the refresher and treated himself to a real water shower. He was glad he’d air-packed multiple changes of clothes. It felt good to be in clean pants and a clean shirt. The rest of his clothes and flightsuit he put in the quickwash. 

When he exited the refresher into Luke’s bedroom, Luke was sitting on one side of the bed wearing a gray short-sleeved tee and loose drawstring pants. Din only hesitated before slipping into the other side of the bed to appreciate how stunning Luke really was, sitting cozy and vulnerable under the soft glow of the tableside lamp. Seeing him this way, it was easy to forget how thoroughly he had trounced Din in their saber duel. 

Luke turned on his side facing Din, and Din copied his position so that they were both lying on their sides, facing one another. Luke scooted closer until their knees touched. Even though they were fully dressed, it felt very intimate. 

“I like having you here,” Luke said, brushing his thumb across Din’s knuckles. 

“On Coruscant?”

“In my bed.”

Din exhaled sharply and felt his face twitch, but he wasn’t sure into what expression. 

Luke chuckled. “Too forward?”

Din blinked slowly, giving a slight head shake. “You didn’t just invite me to stay in your quarters so that I could be close to Grogu,” he ventured. It was obvious now in hindsight. 

Luke bit his lip. “Well, not _just._ Did you really squeeze into his kid-sized bed the first night?”

“I’ve slept in more cramped spaces.”

“Well, you don’t have to do that tonight, unless you want to. It’s up to you. Or, you heard Han, if you actually want guest quarters, I can certainly arrang--”

It was Luke’s turn to yelp as Din suddenly tackled him, rolling him onto his back so that Din could stretch out on top of him, pinning him to the bed. Luke’s eyes shined with mischief, reflecting the golden light of the lamp as he looked up at Din. Din had the strongest urge to trace his face with his fingers, to learn the slope of his nose, to feel the heat of his cheeks, to marvel at the blond lashes that fluttered up and down. Din leaned down to press their foreheads together. Then, he changed angles and kissed Luke’s forehead before settling his weight half on the bed and half on Luke. “Go to sleep, Jedi.”

“Like this?”

“Are you uncomfortable?” Din asked.

“No, it’s nice. You do a great impression of a warm blanket.”

Din squeezed him slightly, and Luke’s arm that was trapped under Din’s side wiggled its way out to wrap around Din’s back. Din felt the rise and fall of Luke’s chest as he inhaled and exhaled deeply, matching Din’s own even breaths. 

The lamp turned off without any voice command prompt that Din could hear, and he wondered if Luke used the Force to do it. Did the Jedi often use his sorcery to do such mundane tasks? Either way, he found it didn’t bother him. 

Din drifted off to sleep, Luke a warm, welcoming presence in his arms. 

***************

Din woke up to a datapad being chucked in his face. “Look what you’ve done,” Luke complained. “Leia sent me a bunch of names of talkshow hosts.” 

Din yawned and looked up to see Luke standing at the foot of the bed. “This isn’t the good morning I was expecting.”

“Oh, sorry, your majesty of Mandalore. Sorry to have to show you the havoc you’ve wrecked. Let me tickle it better...”

Luke ducked and flipped up the blankets at the end of the bed, diving to grab Din’s feet. He got nails scratching at one heel, making Din laugh and squirm, nearly kicking Luke in the face with his flailing limbs. But Din wiggled free and managed to tuck his knees up. Luke crawled across the bed and flopped down next to Din. He pursed his lips for a kiss. Din just smushed a pillow into his face.

Ignoring the spluttering Jedi, Din squinted at the datapad to peruse the list. Persimmons Tico. Roger the Droid. And a dozen more unrecognizable names. “I don’t know any of these people.”

“Of course you don’t,” Luke said, his voice muffled behind the pillow still smashed to his face. “You don’t know anyone.”

“Ne'johaa!” Din said, lightly punching him in the arm. 

Luke pushed the pillow away and gave Din a mock wounded look. “Besides. There’s only one guy I’d trust with this. Someone I’d trust with my life. Actually,” he said thoughtfully, “I _have_ trusted him with my life. Several times in fact.”

“Who?”

“Lando Calrissian. He’s got a talkshow now. He gives his opinion on everything from mining developments to piloting record breakers to fashion do’s and don’ts.”

“That’s quite a range of material.”

“Yeah. He’s kind of a know-it-all. An old friend of Han’s actually. A smuggler turned legit.”

Din sighed. “Let me guess. He’s _also_ a hero of the Rebellion?”

“Naturally. He helped blow up the second Death Star, flying the Falcon!”

“Of course he did.”

“Of course he did,” Luke parroted in a low, gravelly voice. It would have been kind of hot, except that Din recognized teasing when he heard it. 

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Never! You’re much too fearsome to make fun of.”

Din grumbled. “I’ll give you something to fear.”

“Hm? Gonna kiss me til I can’t breathe?”

It was an invitation to do just that. Din pulled Luke down on top of him and kissed him soundly. 

“You know,” Luke started between breaks for air. His tone worried Din, not to mention the fact that he was interrupting their make out session to _talk._ “While we’re on the topic of kissing...”

Din tried to shut him up with his mouth, but Luke kept skirting away, hiding his face in Din’s neck and placing kisses there, too. 

Luke continued, “Before we go on the holonet and tell people we’re lovers, maybe we should, you know, _be lovers?”_

Din huffed out a breath. “Smooth.”

“Thanks. I thought it was a rather charming segue.”

“A charming segue into my pants.”

“Oh, I’m working my way there. I’m taking the scenic route, if that’s okay with you. Our people are ancient enemies, so we should take it slow, like a glacier, like candle wax, like--” 

Luke found Din’s lips again and kissed him more deeply than before. Din kissed him back just as ardently, making good on his promise to steal Luke’s breath away. 

The scenic route was more than okay with Din. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translations  
> ad’ika = child  
> buy’ce = helmet  
> elek = yes  
> beroya = bounty hunter  
> Vi akaanir par ijaat = We fight for honor.  
> gar parj = you win  
> vor entye = thank you  
> ba’gedet’ye = you're welcome  
> jehaate = lies  
> ne'johaa = shut up


	8. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And if Din got a blasphemous rush from seeing Luke wearing his armor? Well, no one needed to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is an interlude. A certain kiss is featured, courtesy of an irresistible suggestion from Reader234. Also, please be as enamored as I am over the idea of Din holding Grogu on a carousel. And I want to tell you that I own the original figurine of Malakili, which is really that one character's name. But what I _really_ want to draw your attention to is **THE INCREDIBLE NEW FANART** for Chapter One! Go, go, go click back to [Chapter 1](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28653660/chapters/70239465) and feast your eyes on Marina's amazing depiction of Luke and Din sharing the X-Wing cockpit, then go leave lots of likes and comments on her tumblr!

Surprisingly, several days pass without any new calamities befalling them. 

They get into a routine. A simple breakfast with caf—Luke supplying increasingly varied non-sweet options that appeal to Din—followed by Jedi training for Luke and Grogu in the top-floor climatron. Din joins them more often than not, even though it’s his preference to do his workout routine first. But he is happy to adjust his own training regimen for the chance to participate in Grogu’s. He is thrilled to be privy to the Jedi instruction, but a lot of it proves to be mental training, which Din can only observe with curiosity. 

Occasionally, Luke invites him to take an active role again, like having Grogu guess the shapes in Din’s mind or directing a game of telekinesis catch. 

Sometimes it becomes a game of monkey-in-the-middle, with Din and Luke taking turns trying to pluck the stones from the air before Grogu can use his powers to get them to go where he wants. 

Grogu _loves_ this game. 

His eyes narrow in concentration, and he masters the curveball pass, bypassing Luke completely as he uses the Force to call the stone from Din’s hand. Din is so proud. 

Afterwards, depending on how training goes, Grogu might be hungry or tired. On the days when his energy is still high, they go explore the markets and touristy parts of Coruscant. Din isn’t particularly concerned with the paparazzi for his own sake; he is reasonably sure his armor serves as a decent deterrent to any of the more aggressive fans. But Grogu is another matter. Din isn’t sure if Moff Gideon was the only one involved in the cloning project, and he doesn’t want to advertise Grogu’s location more than necessary. So, when they take Grogu with them around Coruscant, they put him in a custom hat that covers his ears and attaches to his tunic like a hoodie. Din sometimes slips Luke’s Jedi robes over his armor, pulling up the hood when needed. As for Luke, aside from trading his robes for extremely tight denim pants, the only concession to anonymity Luke makes is to put on a cap that obscures his eyes. The cap is emblazoned with a bird of prey that reads _Correlian Raptors._ Supposedly it is Han’s favorite professional ice sports team. Din has _questions._

When Din expresses mild interest in seeing a historical weapons museum exhibit, Luke won’t drop it until Din agrees to attend. They have to go all the way back to Luke’s apartment for Din to store his disintegrator pistol and thermal detonators, which Luke says he can’t bring. Luke says everything else should be fine, because this is _Coruscant,_ which is apparently open-carry and full of people walking around armed to the teeth. Din’s full array of weaponry is meant to be secretive, but Luke is sharing Jedi secrets with Din in return. 

Din learns about kyber crystals and Force ghosts—technically not zombies, but too close for Din’s liking—while Luke learns about sigils and vibroblades.

After the museum, which proves suitably interesting, they walk through a colorful marketplace. Grogu tugs on Din’s satchel, demanding to be put down.

Grogu toddles over to a brightly lit carnival carousel. Din pays for a ride, and feels very put-upon when the carousel attendant insists Grogu is too small to ride by himself and requires a guardian to stand with him. So Din finds himself striding onto the children’s ride like an out-of-place giant as children from every planet of origin scramble to claim the creatures they want to ride. 

Grogu chooses an oversized, impressionistically-painted loth-cat. Din picks him up and places him on the saddle. He stands at an angle that he hopes blocks Gorgu from most onlookers and adjusts Grogu’s hat, even though it makes Grogu fuss. Din tells him he has to wear it, because he doesn’t want Grogu plastered all over the tabloids like Din, who is already resigned to his fate. 

The music starts, and every time the carousel makes a full rotation, Din spots Luke in the crowd watching them with the widest smile. He focuses on that smile, and Grogu’s happy coos as the loth-cat goes up and down, rather than any holos being taken. 

Normally after their afternoon outing, Grogu takes a nap while Din and Luke work on translating the relics. Luke is unsurprised to learn that the builder and first wielder of the Darksaber was a Mandalorian Jedi. (A Jedi Mandalorian, Din corrects.) 

When Grogu wakes up, they hand him off to Chewbacca or Artoo or Leia, then Din and Luke proceed with their own training. They use the smaller gymnasium in Luke’s building, which Luke books for their exclusive use and which is lined with blackout transparisteel so that others can’t see in. Lightsaber and Darksaber clash in a frission of crackling energy, and Din gets better at holding his ground.

For all that Luke is reserved when talking about his accomplishments, he is a show-off when it comes to their sparring. He leaps. He flips. He sends chairs and anything else not bolted down careening towards Din’s head. He immobilizes Din with invisible strands of energy. 

It’s an exhilarating, hopelessly unfair challenge. 

But Din never asks Luke to forgo his gifts. He knows his ancestors fought Jedi with slugs and beskar, and Din is interested in seeing the full range of Luke’s abilities. Din has to remind himself of this when he finds himself strung from the ceiling by own grappling line looped around the rafters. It’s mortifying. Luke makes it slightly better by tipping up his helmet and kissing him upside-down where he hangs, making the blood that’s rushing to his head try desperately to rush to other places. 

Sometimes their training sessions devolve into makeout sessions, and Din likes this, too. Din has fantasized about asking Luke to join him for his after-training shower or inviting himself to Luke’s. 

Eventually they retrieve Grogu, who is always hungry for dinner no matter how many snacks his minders have sneaked to him. Luke has taken to ordering dinner from restaurants he insists Din _has_ to try. 

Din overhears: “I’d like to place an order for delivery.” A pause. “You don’t?” A pause. “But I’m Luke Skywalker?” A pause. “Great! We’ll need two orders of Mon Calamari crab cakes, one order of fritters, make ‘em spicy, then one order of ormachek...” 

When the food arrives, it’s so good that Din wouldn’t dream of judging Luke’s use of his celebrity status, especially when his sole purpose in doing so is to accommodate Din’s Creed by having the food brought to the privacy of Luke’s apartment. 

Din’s small circle grows to include Artoo, who both absolutely is and isn’t a living thing. The paradox is the same as the one that plagued him with IG-11. Artoo is clearly more than the sum of his parts and programming. He is Luke’s friend. Grogu likes him. And Din is getting accustomed to him. Din is grateful Luke doesn’t press about why Din has decided he is okay helmetless in front of Artoo, because he doesn’t have an answer that isn’t self-contradictory. Din’s relationship with the Creed is like that sometimes. More than one thing can be true, and sometimes those truths have to be…layered. Besides, Paz said Alor declared an end to their need for covertness, even if Din wasn’t ready to embrace that option fully yet.

After dinner, they sit on the sofa while a holovid plays in the background, though none of them pay it much attention. Grogu works on a 3-D Alderaanian puzzle Leia gave him, and Din and Luke check their messages and exchange fond looks. 

Several days pass in this wonderfully uneventful way. 

***********

Chewbacca roared a question as he bounced Grogu in his furry arms and pointed at Din’s helmet.

“I have no idea what he sees through the helmet,” Luke answered thoughtfully. “Maybe it is impacting our saber training.” He addressed Din, “Is your vision limited?” 

Din shook his head. “I see more than you do, probably. Well, aside from your Jedi sight.”

“What do you mean?” Luke asked.

Din decided it would be easier to show than tell. He thanked Chewbacca for the idea, and they left Grogu with him and went back to Luke’s quarters instead of heading to the gymnasium. 

“Sit,” he instructed Luke, sitting down on the sofa and patting the spot next to himself. Din unclasped his helmet and took it off. He flipped it over and passed it to Luke. 

Luke took it, and the way he held it so reverently made Din’s heart skip a beat. But Din had a purpose with this. 

“Put it on,” Din encouraged.

Luke stared at him, blue eyes wide and awed. “Is that allowed?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Din asked. “I think it will help sync our fighting styles if you can see what I see. You’ve already projected things you see to me in my mind. I can’t do that. But you can put my helmet on, and I can explain some of the mechanics.”

“If you’re sure,” Luke said, sounding shy but eager. He brushed back his bangs before slipping Din’s helmet onto his head. “Oh!” he said immediately. 

Din smiled at the wonder in his voice, which sounded different coming through the vocoder.

Then Luke ruined the moment by commenting, “This is nothing like a stormtrooper’s helmet.”

Din scoffed and flicked the helmet, knowing Luke would feel it ping. “Of course it’s not. And when did you ever wear an imp helmet?”

“Rescue mission. Same as you.”

Din didn’t want to think about the terrible time he had to wear the shore trooper helmet. 

“Stormtrooper helmets work better as drums,” Luke redirected. “Ask the Ewoks.”

“They look best on _pikes,”_ Din said darkly. “Now, pay attention to the readouts. You see the top right of the HUD?”

“Yes.”

“That gives me environmental data, including external and internal temperature and thermal indicator warnings.”

“Woah.” Luke was looking side to side. “It’s measuring distance to targeted objects in real-time?”

“Yes, it supports motion tracking and, here...Luke, turn off the light.”

Luke’s fingers twitched, and the light panel switch on the other side of the room flicked downwards to the off position, darkening the room. “Automatic light compensation and is that--”

“Heat-detection sensors, yes.” 

Luke was standing up and moving around the room cautiously, like an initiate in the covert taking their first steps after getting their helmet fitted for the first time. “How do you process all of this all the time?”

“I don’t use _all_ of it all the time,” Din answered simply, watching Luke endearingly stalk around the room. “But the short answer is...practice.” Din reached for Luke’s arm to pull him back down onto the sofa. “Wait, it gets better. Give me your arm.” While Luke was distracted by the HUD insead the helmet, Din removed his left vambrace and attached it to Luke’s forearm. 

Luke looked down when he heard the vambrace snap into place. “Um.”

Din focused on the vambrace controls rather than the oddness of looking at the familiar visage of his own t-visor. It had stood in proxy for his own face for most of his life. He guided Luke through the main targeting controls, showing him how to make adjustments and which buttons were connected to which weapons arrays. Luke paid rapt attention until Din was satisfied with his overview. He then unstrapped the vambrace from Luke’s arm and raised his hands to his helmet. Luke obligingly leaned towards him to make it easier to slide up and off. Din placed his helmet on his lap, holding it tightly.

“Thank you,” Luke said sincerely, eyes bright and hair sticking up in all directions. 

Din peered at him, studying the open affection on his face and feeling very exposed himself, no matter that the exchange had been Din’s idea. He’d been helmetless in front of Luke countless times now, but this was different. It was a different kind of intimate to lend someone not a weapon but your _armor._ It was like giving someone a piece of yourself to hold. 

It wasn’t that he was second-guessing his decision. He was absolutely certain in his choice to have put his helmet on Luke, not only so that Luke could better tailor his saber training but also because they led dangerous lives, and Din wanted to be prepared for emergencies. What if Luke continued to get attacked by Mandalorians? Din felt responsible. He was the one who’d brought Grogu to Luke, which potentially increased the target on the Jedi’s back. And he was the one who’d handed him the Darksaber in public, further increasing it. 

Obviously, Luke could hold his own in battle. But Mandalorians had fought Jedi in ages past, and maybe other Mandalorians, more well versed in history than Din, knew more techniques to combat him. 

Giving Luke insight into the essential arsenal of the Mandalorian armor was the smart thing to do to enable the Jedi to most effectively protect himself. 

If Din indirectly benefited from it in his own training, that was a bonus. 

And if Din got a blasphemous rush from seeing Luke wearing his armor? Well, no one needed to know. 

Luke seemed to be patiently waiting for Din to collect himself. 

Din put his helmet on. “Let’s go train.”

Luke squeezed Din’s thigh, and then stood up and led them to the gymnasium. 

***********

It was past Grogu’s bedtime, but the three of them were sprawled on the sofa, weapons put away for the evening. Luke was holding Grogu on his chest, while Luke was stretched out longways with his head in Din’s lap. 

Din was scrolling through a datapad. “Did you see that your friend Lando sent us some files?”

“Hm? Like what?”

Din held the datapad out so that Luke could see. On the screen was a page from a tabloid showing a holo of Din standing on the carousel with a bunch of hearts drawn around it. The caption said: _Merry-Go-Round My Heart._ Across the image was handwritten text that read: _Can’t wait to meet Mando! Until then, here’s some ‘prep work’ you can do for your interview! -LC._

Luke chuckled. “What in the ice pits of Hoth did he attach to that message?”

Din skimmed the attachments. “Seems to be a variety of quizzes. The themes are getting-to-know-you questions for couples.” 

Luke batted the datapad away. “He’s teasing us.”

Din frowned. “You don’t want to be prepared?”

Luke made a dismissive sound. “Lando is _joking._ He’s just messing with us.”

“Allow me to assess that,” Din stated. “Besides, do you have something better to be doing right now?” 

“Rumors of that Darksider are still out there, and as the _only_ resident Jedi of the New Republic, I should probably get off this couch and…”

Din cut him off with a noise of protest.

Luke winked up at him. “Or better yet, I could put Grogu to bed…”

Grogu let out a plaintive snorting sound, making both Din and Luke laugh. Never disturb a loth-cat trying to sleep in your lap. 

Din clicked on the first quiz and read aloud, “What’s a planet you’d like to visit that you haven’t been to before?”

“Are you really making us do this?” Luke whined in a very un-Jedi-like manner. 

“Just answer the question, Luke.”

“Fine,” Luke conceded. “Naboo. My mom’s side is from there. You?”

“I don’t know.”

Luke chuckled again, the rise and fall of his chest bouncing Grogu, who glared at Din as if knowing he was to blame for his pillow’s rumbling vibrations. “This isn’t going to work if you don’t get creative with it. So go on, what’s a planet you’ve heard intriguing things about?”

Din carded his fingers through Luke’s fine hair as he considered. His memory flitted back to old stories about angels whispered by young initiates in the covert. He didn’t know if there was any truth to them, or if they were just the make-believe stories of starry-eyed children. “I’ve heard nice things about Iego.”

“The moons of Iego?” Luke asked in clarification. “They’re supposed to be gorgeous. The birthplace of beauty herself in some cultures.”

Self-conscious, Din amended, “But the Mandalore system has many planets I should see first.”

“You know, you don’t always have to say the _right_ thing,” Luke pointed out.

Din nodded shallowly but moved on to the next question. “How would you spend a million credits?”

“You first.”

“Well, you know about the potential underground vault I told you about on Mandalore, so I have put some thought into this. I’d begin with buying a new ship. I’d invest in Mandalore. Invest _anywhere._ Boba says I need a retirement account.”

“You’re taking financial advice from Boba Fett?”

“Yes, and maybe you should, too,” Din said matter-of-factly. “He seems to drip credits like a sweating dewback. What about you?”

“Credits?” Luke scrunched up his nose. “The New Republic just sort of...covers for me, I guess?”

“You don’t know where the money comes from that pays for your life?”

“Not really?” Luke admitted. “Leia handles it.”

Din sighed. “Well, if you had _extra,_ what would you do with it?”

“Give it to you?” Luke said hopefully. 

Din resumed stroking Luke’s hair. “Don’t you need the investment to start your Jedi academy or something?”

“Oh yeah, I guess that’s my answer. Okay, what’s next?”

“What’s the most daring thing you’ve done?”

“Daring,” Luke repeated slowly, closing his eyes. “Turning myself in to my father on Endor, trusting the Force that it would work out.”

Din couldn’t resist bending down to press a gentle kiss to Luke’s head, recalling the rest of that story that Luke had shared with him. Grogu cooed at him, and Din placed a kiss on his head, too. He knew his own answer easily enough. “Taking off my helmet on Morak to get the coordinates to Moff Gideon, then telling him I was coming after him by throwing his own threat back at him.”

Luke whistled, which made Grogu’s ears twitch. Din reached out to soothe him, feeling the warm, felt-like texture of the back of Grogu’s ear. Luke made a small sound of complaint to have lost Din’s attention to his scalp. Both Grogu and Luke were very needy for physical touch. Din wondered if it was a Jedi thing or just a Grogu and Luke thing. It was different than what he was used to, but he was growing to like it. He especially liked feeling needed. In the back of his mind, Din wondered if he was getting _too_ used to it. 

He read the next question to stave off any unproductive thinking. “What’s something you’d like to try on vacation for fun?”

“Well, you don’t ‘take off’ from being a Jedi. But I wouldn’t mind visiting somewhere with an ocean. I’d like to learn to surf. You?”

“Mountain climbing.”

“Doesn’t your jetpack make that rather pointless?”

Din shrugged. “I thought the point was ‘fun.’ I think it’d be a great challenge. A single climber, testing his mettle against an immovable mountain and all nature’s might.”

“Well, when you put it like that, I’ve got to peg you as a bit of a thrill seeker,” Luke observed.

“You’re one to talk. I’ve witnessed your piloting.”

Luke hummed noncommittally. 

Din reads on. “What’s the craziest job you’d consider taking? One that comes to mind is a bounty I was hunting who was hauling _rathtars_ of all things.”

“I could be a frog monger for Grogu, here,” Luke jokes. “No, I have no idea.”

“Alright, moving on. What’s the best prank you have pulled off?”

Luke lights up. “While training Leia, I convinced her she had to take a vow of silence for a week.”

“Did she last the week?” Din asked, trying to imagine the Jedi-trained general morosely quiet for days on end, trying to lead those around her by sign or written instructions.

“Nearly. The Republic needed her at the end. She took it so seriously that I had to confess I’d made the whole thing up just so she’d do her duty. She didn’t think it was as funny as I did. What about you? Do Mandalorians ever get up to any shenanigans?”

Din smiled wistfully. “One time, we made it ‘snow’ in the covert. It was just uj cake powder, but we got it in the vents and it went _everywhere._ The Alor was very displeased.”

Grogu peeked one eye open at the mention of cake. Din would have to try to bake the sugary-sweet pastry some time for him.

“The next question is related. Are you still in touch with any childhood friends? You’ve met Paz.”

“I like him.”

“I’m glad. I hope more of my covert is out there somewhere.”

“I’m sure they are,” Luke said reassuringly. “Growing up on Tatooine was boring and lonely, but I had a friend, Biggs. I still see him sometimes. He’s a fair flyer.”

“What’s the strangest creature you’ve ridden?”

“Tauntaun,” Luke answered easily.

“Blurrg,” Din supplied. “What’s one job you would never do, even for a million credits?”

“Assassination,” Luke said firmly. “I want to help the New Republic however I can, but I won’t do that.” 

“Anything for Imps. At least, not again.” Din sighed ruefully and wrapped a finger around Grogu’s small hand. At least he had made up for his sin. Din flipped through Lando’s attachments to another list of questions. “What kind of clothing or fashion do you find most appealing?” He sniffed. “Beskar--”

“Beskar,” Luke said at the same time. “Jinx. Okay, but also? My sister dresses very fashionably. Sometimes I go shopping with her to live through her choices vicariously. She keeps encouraging me to buy things I don’t need. Like those boots.” Luke pointed over to the entryway, where his tall, black boots leaned against the wall. 

Din puzzled, “They’re… nice boots? Everyone needs boots. I used to make do with mismatched ones.”

“Yeah, but these are _expensive_ boots. And they’re tighter than is really practical.”

“True.” Din had thought much the same. “But they look good on you. You should wear whatever you want.”

Luke seemed placated, closing his eyes as his lips turned up at the corners. “I’m going to need another answer than _beskar.”_

“Fine. I suppose if I have to pick something equally impractical...I like _capes._ It’s traditional for Mandalorians to wear them. I sometimes lean on that tradition as an excuse to wear one, even when it gets in the way.”

“I like the flair of drama it adds to your ensemble,” Luke said approvingly. “You’ll appreciate Lando’s cape collection. He must have a hundred of them.”

“I’m beginning to wonder if this interview with him is going to be a good idea or not.” Din picks another set of questions at random. “Would you rather fight a wampa or a rancor? … For me, a wampa. Less teeth. And less drool to wipe off my armor.”

“I’ve fought both.”

“Both?!”

Luke sighs. “A wampa caught me once on Hoth. Strung me up to eat me. I got free, but Han had to save me from dying of hypothermia.”

Din shivered in empathy, both because he hated the cold and because he hated the thought of Luke almost freezing to death.

“The rancor I fought was in the pit in Jabba’s throne room.”

Recognition flares. “I know that pit. The rancor’s owner gave good intel. Malakili, I think his name was.”

“Well, I killed it,” Luke said apologetically. “It was trying to eat me.”

“Malakili must have been devastated,” Din said, then observed, “I’ve noticed a curious pattern that you tend to get almost eaten in a lot of your stories. Ewoks. Wampas. Rancors. Anything else?”

Luke laughs. “A monster that lived in the Deathstar’s trash compactor? It dragged me under. You?”

“Most recently, I got eaten by a krayt dragon.”

“No!” Luke gasped at Din’s admission, sitting up so quickly that Grogu yipped in dissatisfaction and climbed down from the sofa.

“It was on purpose, mostly,” Din explained. “I blew it up from the inside out.”

“Incredible,” Luke praised, making Din’s neck and ears redden. “Grogu had told me something about that, but I figured he was exaggerating. Speaking of my little trainee,” Luke said as Grogu padded his way to his own room, “Goodnight, Grogu.”

“Goodnight, Grogu,” Din said as well.

Grogu turned to look at them with sleepy eyes before disappearing into his room, clearly ready to sleep on a bed that was more stable and less prone to shaking in laughter or surprise. 

Din watched as Grogu’s door shut on its own. “Did he do that? Or you?” Din asked Luke.

“He did it,” Luke replied. He settled back down, this time resting his weight directly in Din’s lap with his feet hanging over the armrest. “Got any more of those questions?”

“I thought you said they were just a joke and waste of time,” Din reminded him.

Luke hummed as he wiggled into a comfortable position. “Yes, well, I clearly underestimated their value. I’ve never been afraid to admit my mistakes.”

The datapad screen had gone dark, and when Din pulled it back up, he’d lost his place. He selected another quiz at random. When he glanced at the first question, he was glad Grogu had gone to bed. He felt embarrassment creep up his neck before he even read it aloud, but he forged ahead. “Where would you rate yourself as a kisser on a scale of 1 to 10?” Din didn’t want to rate himself. “You rate me,” he prompted, deciding not to worry about his inexperience with kissing and instead invite Luke to flirt with him.

“Nine.”

Din raised his eyebrows. He’d been sure Luke would have taken the opportunity to stroke his ego to get a rise out of him. “Why not ten?”

Luke idly traced the line of Din’s mustache above his lips. “I like to leave room for improvement.”

“Fine, then you’re an eight,” Din picked the number somewhat petulantly. 

Luke chuckled. “How would you even know? Who else have you ever kissed?“

“I just _know,”_ Din said, but he heard the veiled curiosity behind Luke’s question. He remembered Luke’s unsubtle reaction to Paz saying how he liked _this one,_ referring to Luke. With everything Din had told Luke about his Creed, he’d heavily implied that Luke was the first person he’d ever kissed. The inference was not only reasonable but accurate. “You’re not the first person I’ve been intimate with. But you are the first person I’ve kissed romantically.”

Luke listened attentively, then drew Din into intense eye contact. “I’m glad I get to kiss you.”

Din’s eyes fluttered closed when Luke skillfully demonstrated how glad he was about it. Din’s rating him a mere eight was truly uncharitable. 

After kissing him, Luke gave a half-smile. “I guess it’s my turn to share. My list of previous partners is pretty short but, uh, varied?”

“Meaning?”

“Species, gender…” Luke waved a hand in the air. “Maybe it’s because I’m a Jedi, I don’t know, but my attraction to people always stems from what’s inside. But,” he said, resting his hand on Din’s chest over his heart, his voice going deeper, “I can’t say I’m blind when presented with such nice packaging.”

Din swallowed, throat suddenly dry. Even though Luke was steering things back to familiar physical territory, Din was stuck on the emotional precipice they’d just skirted across. Din had already known that Luke’s interest in him hadn’t been purely physical, since it’d started before they’d even spent time together. But they’d only been spending time together now for what…about a week? It was too fast, surely. But Din couldn’t force any uncertainty into his own mind—not about _Luke_ anyway. The only doubts plaguing Din were of his own making and more to do with his next steps. Luke wasn’t a source of confusion or anxiety. Luke was...practically perfect. Everything happening between them felt entirely natural, and Din couldn’t help but trust in it and give himself over to it wholly. If there were consequences, he’d face them as they came.

But rather than give voice to any of that yet, he cleared his throat and read the next question, clinging to the silly quiz like a lifeline. “What are two things your partner does well? I’ll go first,” he said quickly. “Fighting. And being patient with Grogu.” 

“And for you...fighting. And kissing.” Luke’s expression was playful, but tinged with desire in the darkening of his irises. 

When Luke moved to kiss him again, Din kept Luke’s face in place by faintly pressing his index finger to Luke’s lips. With blatant appreciation, Din watched the minute changes in Luke’s body that signaled his rising passion. “You’re just trying to make up for rating me less than a ten at kissing. This is bribery.”

“Is it working? Luke asked huskily, redirecting his efforts away from Din’s face and sliding his hand from Din’s chest down to his hip. Din noticed Luke was deliberately putting pressure into his fingertips and avoiding any of Din’s ticklish spots. 

“...Maybe,” Din breathed. 

Luke’s touches moved down Din’s body slowly but purposefully, with enough time between each scrape of nail and nip of teeth for Din to object if he wanted to.

He didn’t object.

He spurred Luke on by arching into his touch and biting back groans of his name, trying to be quiet but finding that Luke was making it very, very difficult. 

The bright lights of Coruscant from the window behind them painted a bewitching kaleidoscope of colors across Luke’s pale, glistening skin. That was the last image Din saw clearly before closing his eyes and thinking about nothing else for the rest of the night beyond the taste and feel of _Luke._


	9. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lando asked, “You’re not planning on whisking away our hero of the rebellion to live in a castle on Mandalore, are you?” Lando and the audience laughed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's....the....LANDO SHOW! Jokes! Capes! Trivia! The 'are you married' question! Lando covers it all. And thank you dear readers for all the wonderful comments. I set out to write the tropiest, most self-indulgent dinluke fic I could ever want, and you helped make it happen. I hope this chapter puts a smile on your face!

“So I’d like to try something different,” Luke said as they prepared to spar.

Din glanced at Luke warily over his shoulder as he stretched. He bent down to touch his toes, but he made an affirmative sound to indicate he was listening. Upside down, he peeked at Luke from between his legs. Luke’s sandy blond head was tucked towards his feet, which were crossed in a butterfly stretch. He was bent nearly in half. _Flexible._

Luke continued, “Instead of teaching you a new kata, I’m going to learn from _you.”_

Din changed positions, twisting his arm behind himself and holding it steady for several beats, knowing he’d want his muscles loosened up for saber training. 

Luke’s feet were in a pike position in front of him, and he was stretching his arms, too. “Getting the chance to see through your helmet gave me the idea. I’d like to try using the Force to mirror your precise movements, if you’re amenable.”

“What would that entail?” Din asks, switching to his other arm. 

“I’d go into a sort of trance,” Luke explained, rolling his shoulders. “Just like I projected Endor’s Ewoks to you, I’d open my senses the other way around.”

“To what end?” Din asked, curious. He was never afraid to let Luke into his head, but he wasn’t sure about the goal of the exercise. 

Luke ducked down, presumably to continue stretching, but Din caught a pinkish hue coloring his cheeks. “I suppose there isn’t a specific purpose? Just...it’d be a good challenge for me.” Luke then gestured for Din to sit down across from him. 

Din sat and extended his feet to match and line up against Luke’s so that they could use each other’s arms to take turns pulling themselves into deeper back and leg stretches. “You mean I’d be helping _you_ train, like you’ve been helping Grogu?”

Luke nodded, but added shyly, “It’d also just be nice, I think, feeling that close to you. You’re always so open around me, and I don’t think you realize what a…” he seemed to search for a word, “what a gift that is.” 

This time it was Din’s turn to flush. He leaned back, making Luke lean forward into a stretch. “It’s not like I’m doing it consciously,” he pointed out. “I’m no Jedi. You can waltz in here,” he tilted his helmet meaningfully, “anytime you like, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Luke stopped stretching and looked at Din with a thoughtful expression. “That’s...not quite how it works.”

“What do you mean?”

“Everyone has natural mental shielding. I walk around the millions of souls on Coruscant, and the minds I encounter, well, they’re not all welcoming like yours. And when people know I’m a Jedi, those shields are pulled up even tighter.” Luke’s eyes closed, then opened again, zeroing in on Din. “But not you.”

Din swallowed. 

“You don’t recoil from me when I ‘waltz in there’, as you say. Most people do. Even with advance warning, people don’t like it. They say it feels...wrong. Like trespassing. How does it feel to you?”

Din’s mouth was dry. But even if he could find his voice, how would he answer a question like that? It felt like revealing too much.

Much of the time, Din couldn’t tell the difference between whether Luke was actively in his head or just nearby. He couldn’t feel the Force. But he could perceive the effects. Luke often did things before Din requested, like handing him a stylus when he got an idea he wanted to write down, or offering him a drink before he even realized he’d become thirsty. And, just like that one ridiculous magazine headline had suggested, Luke _did_ extend his premonitions into their activities in the bedroom, sometimes touching Din in the exact place he wanted without Din even having to say. It lent a natural chemistry to their intimacy that Din embraced eagerly. 

Din had a tendency to be reserved, and with Luke, that didn’t matter. 

Din wasn’t just tolerant of Luke’s preternatural abilities. He was _grateful._

In fact, Din wouldn’t be averse to Luke mentally intruding on Din’s mind right now, just so he wouldn’t have to put any of this into words. “You first,” he said eventually. “What’s it like from your end?”

Luke seemed surprised to be asked. He leaned back slowly, see-sawing Din forward into a stretch he felt all the way towards his toes. “It’s like...sinking into a pool of warm water. Like an embrace, but everywhere.”

Din’s hands felt sweaty in his gloves where he gripped Luke’s forearms, and they hadn’t even begun exerting themselves. “My mind does that?”

“It does,” Luke affirmed, sliding himself out of Din’s grip until they were just sitting across from one another. “Can you feel any echo of it?”

Din considered that. “Generally no, unless you do that thing,” Din wiggled his fingers, “where you project your thoughts. But there’s this other piece? Or maybe it’s not different at all? At times, there’s something nestled in the back of my mind like a...” Din shook his head. “I don’t know how to explain. It sounds stupid.”

Luke’s expression was subdued. “Din, you can’t seriously think I’d judge you for trying to describe what Jedi have struggled to define for millennia.” He added almost inaudibly, “There’s a _resonance_ between us.”

“I know,” Din said, equally faintly. He didn’t say that sometimes he felt a pleasant little ball of energy cozying up in the corner of his mind like a loth-cat warming itself in front of a fire. 

Later, Luke slipped into Din’s mind to try his mirroring thing, which worked so well that it was as if Luke’s saber-twirling form was just an extension of Din’s own shadow. It was synergy. And with Luke so entwined with him, Din figured Luke was just as aware as he was about the little sprite taking up residence in the back of his head. 

*********************

The announcer’s booming voice declared, “It’s….the…..LANDO SHOW!”

“Hello, hello! What do we have here?” Lando drawled as he trotted out to center stage with a saucy jump in his step. He stopped in front of a desk, which was inscribed with his name in lights as tall as his hips. He sent a dazzling smile roving across the live audience, which was filled with beings of all species and ages. They were cheering and screaming Lando’s name. 

Lando put his palms out as if to encourage them to settle down, but the said otherwise with the gleam of his white teeth, bright against his rich dark skin, cheekily inviting the adoration. “Thank you, thank you, my friends.” The crowd’s clapping slowly petered out until there were just a few lone whistles and catcalls. Lando _twirled,_ letting his gold-trimmed burgundy cape flare in a dramatic arc around him. 

Lando hopped back onto the top of his desk, letting his legs hang down and crossing them at the ankles. “Welcome back to the Lando Show!” Lando said. “We’ve got a great program for you today. Our musical guest is the one, the only, Max Rebo!” 

The audience cheered again. 

“He’ll tickle the keys...and our hearts.”

The crowd made ‘awww’ sounds.

“And! As promised, my dear new-rep rebels, I’m pleased to present two _very special_ guests. One is a hero, no, **_the_** hero of the New Republic. I’ll give you a hint: a blast of his proton torpedoes took down the first Death Star.”

The audience started shrieking.

“Don’t forget,” Lando said with a wink, “a blast of _my_ proton torpedoes took down the second one.”

The crowd went _wild._

After the buzzing settled, Lando said, “Our other guest is a man of both renown _and_ mystery. You might not recognize his face, but you’ll recognize the t-visor of his helmet, a symbol both _feared_ and _revered_ by good folks across the stars. And gentle-beings, I got a sneak-peek of him before the show, and he is looking as regal as any knight in shining armor! I’m a betting man, as you know, and I wouldn’t bet against him!”

Lando continued, “Without further ado, let’s bring out our distinguished guests! Jedi Master Luke Skywalker and Mando Din Djarin!”

That was their cue. Din and Luke walked onto the set. Lando and Luke exchanged a friendly hug between old friends, while Din stuck his gloved hand out for Lando to shake. Lando then took a seat in a plushy chair next to his desk, while Din and Luke sat down on a bright yellow couch. 

“I’m so glad you could both join us today,” Lando enthused.

“It’s our pleasure,” Luke said. 

Lando steepled his fingers and narrowed his eyes in mock accusation. “‘I’ve tried to get you on my show before, Luke. What changed?”

Luke gestured to Din and shrugged. “This was all his idea.”

Din tipped his helmet. Luke had thrown him right under the speeder.

“Really?!” Lando exclaimed, an excited glint in his eye as he turned his attention to Din. “Not to call the most famous Jedi on the planet a liar, but that’s rather hard to believe. I’ve met my fair share of Mandos, and I’ve never found them to be a particularly talkative bunch.” 

Luke grinned. “Maybe that’s because you were running away from them with a rather large bounty on your back.”

“Luke!” Lando feigned offense. “But yes, we all know my past isn’t as unblemished as my handsome face, isn’t that right, everyone?” Lando gushed. “Before I became the upstanding citizen you see before you today, I had my run-ins with Mandalorian bounty hunters. I’ve swindled. I’ve cheated. I’ve even had the infamous Boba Fett after me! But I’m still standing!”

The crowd whistled and cheered.

“Speaking of bounty hunting,” Lando said, addressing Din, “You were a bounty hunter for some time, right?”

“Yes,” Din replied.

“Well, I did some checking, and it looks like some of our audience members have some rather attractive bounties on them! Let’s check them out! And you,” he pointed to Din, “tell us if you’d _Take That Puck!”_

A jaunty tune started playing, and a spotlight panned around the audience and landed on a tall humanoid-looking male. The holocam zoomed in on him, and text scrolled across the bottom of the main screen as an announcer read: “This is Zolpfino. He owes 200,000 credits in overdue child support for his twenty-five offspring! Djarin, would you take him in?” 

The man is laughing, and so is the audience. Some people are shouting, “Take that puck!” Din realizes the bounty is fake. It’s a game.

Din answers, “Uh, yes? The children need the credits.”

The audience whooped.

The holocam panned around the audience again and this time landed on an old Twi’lek woman. The announcer proclaimed, “This is Mart’ly’za. She ordered so many jewels on the CoruShopNet that now she owes 80,000 credits. But she also has eighteen loth-cats living with her, and they’re all hungry! Djarin, do you take her in?”

The Twi’lek looked both amused and embarrassed, and buried her head in her hands. Some of the audience was yelling for Din to take that puck, but most weren’t. Din wouldn’t anyway, if it was real.

“Not enough credits,” Din concluded, giving a shake of his helmet.

Some of the crowd made ‘awww’ sounds while others jeered.

The holocam landed on a human male. “This is Ricky! He is a former imperial stormtrooper.” The crowd booed loudly, people already shouting for Din to take the puck. “He made fun of Lord Vader’s helmet once.” Everyone laughed, including ‘Ricky.’ “Somehow, he got away and has been on the run ever since. Now the remnants of the Empire want him _back!_ They put a bounty on him for one million credits! Djarin, do you collect the bounty?”

“Not a chance,” Din said firmly. 

The audience cheered with raucous applause, pleased that he’d deny the Imps their bounty. Paz would concur.

Lando gave a cocky salute to the crew in the control room at the top of the audience. Suddenly, a loud clanging of sirens filled the air. “That’s our Fashion Alarm!”

Din gawked as a droid on one wheel emerged at breakneck speed from the side of the stage with a mobile wardrobe. Hanging from the wardrobe were at least twenty different capes of varying colors and styles. 

Lando was already tugging Luke and Din towards the rack. “Off with the Jedi robes. On with the dashing capes! You too, Mando! Your cape has definitely seen better days, hasn’t it, everyone?”

Din surveyed the available capes and felt extremely overwhelmed by all the choices. There were so many fabrics, lengths, and styles. He found himself drawn to a sky blue cape, rubbing the fabric between his gloved fingers. He dropped it when he realized the color matched the exact shade of Luke’s eyes. 

At his side, Luke was already wrapping himself in one of the capes that was cream-colored and lined with what might have been a synthetic fur. Luke was joking to Lando, “How great would this have looked on Hoth?”

Lando offered Luke a red, white, and blue cape that had a silky fabric. “Come on, big hero, this one next!”

Luke accepted it, shrugging off the cream-colored cape. “Only if you wear….this one!” He shoved a sparkly _gold_ cape into Lando’s hands.

“All the gold in the Republic won’t shine as brightly as I do in this!” Lando said, strutting across the stage in the gold getup. 

And then Lando strolled up to Din. “Well? What catches your eye, hm? Or do we need the audience to help? What do you think, my friends?”

Din turned around and had to tune down his helmet’s audio receiver over the roar of the crowd shouting different suggestions. 

Lando stroked his mustache, then pulled a cape of deep navy off the rack and held it up to Din, assessing. Din touched the fabric, and even through his gloves he could perceive the richness and quality of the piece. The stitching was impeccable. There was a subtle trim of velvet in the same shade at the finished edges. In the right light, he could see the cape wasn’t actually solid navy. Rather, it had a subtle pattern of intricate keys in a slightly shimmering hue of the same deep indigo shade. The simple clasp at the top was made from burnished metal that looked antique. 

After nodding his approval of the selection, Din ducked down slightly so that Lando could swap out his current cape for the navy one. But Luke appeared at his side out of nowhere, pushing past Lando. Luke finished removing Din’s tattered cape and replaced it with the new one, hands carefully coming around Din’s neck to affix the metal brocade. Din had to duck a little lower so Luke could properly reach around him.

Once the cape was fastened, Luke gave him a pat on his backside that no one could see and a slight push towards the front of the stage. Din stood there awkwardly. But the people in the audience were giving him signs of approval, thumbs up and clapping. Din did a small turn, making the cape flare out, just to rush back over behind the rack. 

He pulled Luke with him until they were hidden in the mountain of colorful fabric, while Lando continued to preen out in front. 

“I’ve never felt so ridiculous,” Din stage-whispered to Luke.

“Are you sure? What about when you wear my Jedi robes over your armor?” Luke jested. 

“I thought you _liked_ it when I did that?” Din responded, mildly affronted. 

“I did! I do! I’m just saying, you definitely _don’t_ look ridiculous now. You look dashing. You should keep this. In fact…” Luke disappeared and was back at Lando’s side, asking loudly in front of the audience. “Can we keep the navy cape for Din?”

The crowd cheered in favor of the idea.

Lando smiled benevolently. “Most certainly! Anything for you! Plus, your friend has excellent taste. That cape was fashioned by the top designer of Naboo, Tommae Fordo! It’s three-thousand credits. It’s a signature look!”

Din froze. _Three-thousand credits?!_ Din could appreciate good craftsmanship, but he couldn’t justify that kind of flaunted wealth. He approached Lando and said quietly, “I can’t accept this.”

When the audience began to ‘awwww’ again, Din realized Lando’s mic had picked up his demurral. 

Lando just turned a soft expression towards him and said, “You can auction it off for charity later if you’re really miffed. But for now, enjoy it. Trust me, the value can only go up the longer you wear it.” He looped the audience in again with a grand, sweeping gesture, “Isn’t that right, friends?”

Lando’s audience whooped in agreement. Din ignored the loud catcalls interspersed amongst the cheers. 

Lando corralled Din and Luke back towards the couch to move onto the next portion of the show. Din noticed that Luke had donned yet another cape, this one painted in broad strokes like a Tatooine sunset, pastels of blue, orange, and pink swirling in an ombre effect that made Luke look taller than he really was. Din was entranced. 

“Next, I’d like to roll one of my favorite segments: _Lando on the Levels!_ Surface, upper, lower, you name it, we went there and talked to the good people of Coruscant. Here’s what we found...”

The screen in the center of the studio came to life. It showed Lando strolling down a Coruscant street in an earlier recording. Fans were coming up to him, asking to shake his hand and take selfies with him. He was wearing a bright green cape, lined with purple braiding, and he was walking backwards, talking to the mobile holocam. “Let’s see what the word is on the street about Mandos and Jedi!” 

In the recording, Lando called out to a random person whose head was buried in a datapad. “Sir, you there! My friend, can you tell me: what is a Jedi’s weapon called?”

The man seemed to think hard about it. “Uh, a laser sword?”

The screen flipped to answers from other random Coruscant beings trying to answer the same question.

“Light sword.”

“Laser sword.”

“Glow stick?”

Live in the broadcasting studio, Lando groaned and put his palm to his face. “Nobody got it! The answer, my friends, was a lightsaber!” He turned to Luke. “Yours still green?”

“Still green,” Luke confirmed. 

The screened segment resumed with Lando standing between two young Tortugas. He asked them, “What are the six tenets of the Mandalorian Resol’nare?”

“Oh! I know this! Wear the helmet! Wear the armor! Wear the...rockets?”

The screen transitioned to other people trying to answer the question.

“Dude, I just know they hunt bounties.” The man paused, looking anxious. “There isn’t a bounty on _me,_ is there?”

“Uh, language, armor, kids, creed...There are six? *Bleep bleep* I don’t know.”

A kid exclaimed, “Is that the names of all their cool weapons? Like the whistling pigeons? Boom, boom, kapow!”

Lando’s next prompt was: “What is the only substance in the universe that a Jedi can’t cut through with a lightsaber?”

“Diamond.”

“Duristeel?”

“Kyber?”

“Mando metal,” one woman answered. 

Lando followed up with, “What’s Mandalorian metal called?”

The woman scratched her head. “Bee scare.”

“Why is it called that?” Lando asked, maintaining a straight face for the holocam. 

“Because it scares bees? I don’t know!”

Lando was then asking other people what Mandalorian metal was called.

“Buscar.”

“Beaker.”

Lando on the recording had moved on to another prompt. “Do the Jedi have their own language? If so, what’s it called?”

“Their own tongue? Uh, Jedi-speak?”

“Yes. Talk backwards, the Jedi do!”

“Jedi? Jedon’t even know.”

“Jedi language, Jedi language, hmmm. Whirr, whirr, lightsaber go buzz?”

“I don’t think so? Anyone can be a Jedi.”

The recording switched again. Lando held up a holo of Luke and Din and presented it to a stranger: “For ten credits, who are the people in this holo?”

“Oh! That one,” she pointed to Luke, “is the Jedi! He saved us from the Empire!”

“Jedi Skywalker and, um uh, his new boyfriend, who’s some kind of knight, right? A Mando?”

“The Jedi and the Mando!”

“Aren’t they actors in that new space opera? Something about star-crossed lovers? Are you giving away free tickets?!”

“That’s a Mandalorian, obviously. You can tell from the t-visor. And that guy next to him is, uh, *bleep* is that Luke *bleep*in’ Skywalker?”

The segment ended, and the large studio screen disappeared into the ceiling. Live on the air again, Lando chuckled as the holocams focused back on him. “Yes, that _is_ *bleep*in’ Luke *bleep*in’ Skywalker! So tell us, Luke *bleep*in’ Skywalker, how the *bleep* are ya?”

Luke grinned. “I’m *bleep*in’ great, my friend.”

“*Bleep*in’ thrilled to hear it,” Lando continued the joke. “So, some people say that the Jedi used to be warrior monks. But I’d wager monks don’t curse like that? And monks probably don’t have sexy, shiny Mandalorian boyfriends either, hm? And is that what Djarin is, here? Are you two really dating? I would be a terrible host to my audience if I didn’t put you on the spot about it.”

Luke took Din’s hand and squeezed it. “Yes, we’re together.”

The audience whistled and cheered.

“There were rumors that you aren’t just dating...that you already got hitched? Are you two married?”

“No,” Din and Luke both adamantly denied.

“Is it true that the Mandalorians and Jedi used to be enemies at war?”

“That’s what I’m told,” Din said with a slight shrug. “But Luke is not my enemy.”

“And Din will never be my enemy,” Luke chimed in, looking fondly at Din.

The audience made ‘awwww’ sounds. 

“Besides,” Luke continued. “Both of our cultures faced a common enemy much more recently and devastatingly in the guise of the Empire. We both lost many of our numbers. Like the rest of the New Republic and the galaxy at large, we’re stronger together. That’s something we can all agree on.”

Lando nodded. “And what’s the new-fangled crown on top of your helmet, Djarin? Or should I call your highness? Are the rumors true? Are you next in line to be king of Mandalore?”

“It’s not a crown.” Din deflected, thumbing the Darksaber at his belt. “But yes, that’s what this means.”

“Let’s get serious for a moment,” Lando proposed, hushing the audience. “Do you have a message to other Mandalorians out there, who might see this broadcast and wonder what’s next for your planet and your people?”

“Ke’moti ti Mand’alor.”

“And what’s that mean?”

“Stand with the Mand’alor. It is time to reunite. With the Darksaber at my side, and with my allies of Mandalore, the New Republic, and beyond, I hope to prove worthy of our legacy and usher in a new future that makes a home for all who follow the Resol’nare. Ibic haar yust.” 

Lando asked, “You’re not planning on whisking away our hero of the rebellion to live in a castle on Mandalore, are you?” Lando and the audience laughed. 

But Din didn’t laugh. His heart was pounding behind his kar’ta beskar. The question completely caught him off guard. Once planted in his head, the idea took root and started growing out of his control, like the ivy on Yanis II that ropes in its prey in ten seconds flat. Din’s mind flung towards fantasies of Luke putting out a call to Force-sensitives and starting his academy on the same reclaimed soil where Din started calling back Mandalorians. Din licked his lips, trying to think of something diverting to say. “Not in a castle.” 

It worked. Everyone laughed. Even Luke laughed, but he also flashed Din a _look_ that Din couldn’t even begin to interpret. 

Din could not have been more relieved when Lando announced a commercial break to be followed by musical guest Max Rebo. 

As soon as the holocams stopped rolling, Din jumped up from the couch and veered offstage. His bounty-hunting skills allowed him to rapidly hone in on an exit. He needed air. 

He pushed the bar of a stage door, which led to an open-air balcony. It was thankfully empty of crew for Lando’s show. Din leaned against the railing, staring out at the endlessly busy Coruscant skyline. He tried to level out his breathing. 

The door behind him opened and closed. Din knew it was Luke. He knew it because the loth-cat in the back of his mind flicked its tail with interest, as if something had tickled its whiskers.

“Hey,” Luke said softly, coming to stand next to Din. Luke leaned backwards against the railing so that he was looking at Din rather than the view. 

“Hey.”

“You okay? What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” Din told him. “Are you going to say ‘I told you so’ about coming on this talkshow?”

Luke’s face broke into a smile. “A Jedi Master would never be so smug!”

Din’s mood lifted, settling into Luke’s steady presence at his side. “And puffer pigs fly.”

“They fly if you strap a jetpack to them.”

Din chuckled. He flexed his hold on the railing. “I was just surprised by the last question.”

“The one about me following you to Mandalore? I know. I could tell. You practically jumped out of your skin. Behind the armor, I mean.” The wind ruffled Luke’s hair, and his blue eyes shined from under his lashes as he scrutinized Din. 

“Is that, I mean...Is that something you’d even consider?” Din fumbled. _Dank farrik_! He was going to screw this up. He spoke in a rush. “We have much to rebuild. I don’t even know if the Force still flows under all that glassed sand. But I’m going to put out the call for all who identify as Mandalorians, no matter what version of the Way they follow. The translated relics tell me there is hope below the surface, and I’m going to do my best to see our people reunited and our home rebuilt. But in a new image. A more welcoming one, if I get it right.” 

Din steeled himself to go on. “And maybe some of those heeding my call won’t be as Force sensitive as a slice of cheese. Maybe there will be Jedi Mandalorians again someday, like the one who built the Darksaber. Maybe _you_ could train them. Maybe you could train all your Jedi there, making Mandalore a haven not just for lost Mando’ade but for those who lost their connection to their Jedi heritage as well, like Grogu. Maybe, _Luke,_ maybe--”

Din was yanked into a vice-like hug. Luke’s hands came to his shoulders, and his blond head tucked against Din’s neck. _“Yes, Din,_ yes to all that. I can see it, too. Your vision...I want that, too.” 

Din cupped the back of Luke’s head, clutching him close. “Luke.”

Luke’s enthusiasm was catching. It was also making Din want to express his elation in his favorite new way. 

“Luke, I want to kiss you, can you…?” Din wiggled his fingers. 

Luke’s answer was to flash Din a quick, heated look before closing his eyes. Din could feel the contented purr of the loth-cat in the back of his mind, and he knew Luke was putting up some sort of Force shield around just the two of them. And even if it didn’t work perfectly, nothing would have stopped Din in that moment from tipping up his helmet in order to press his lips to Luke’s waiting ones.

They met in the softest of joinings, demanding nothing, which only made Din want to give him everything. He’d give him everything he’d just described, if Luke would have him. Din increased the pressure of their mouths against one another, as if he could sear his words into Luke’s lips like a vow.

Luke responded in kind, angling his head. 

The kiss was full of promise. 

Din’s knees went weak. He let his weight fall against Luke, who was still leaning back on the railing, all of Coruscant sprawled behind him. 

Din pushed his helmet back down before things got any more intense. He swallowed, trying to find his voice again. “There really isn’t a castle on Mandalore, you know.”

“There would be if we built one,” Luke pointed out as it was a reasonable thing to say.

“We’re _not_ building a castle,” Din contended. “That’s the most impractical thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Not if it’s a defensible fort, with a reinforced beskar-steel gate.”

“Luke, no. It’s going to be a refugee haven, not a site of further infighting and bloodshed.”

“But a haven with really sturdy walls. If we get attacked, I’m not going to stand out there with my ‘laser sword’ and fight off an entire battalion.”

“I thought fighting off entire death stars and empires was your speciality?”

Luke tugged on the lowest point of Din’s helmet. “I could use a little help.”

“I would be honored to help you.”

“Just as I’m honored to stand by your side, Din. We’ll find Mandalorians and Jedi, and they’ll come to us. And we’ll build them a future worth sharing,” Luke said, echoing Din’s own sentiments.

“What about the New Republic? What about your responsibilities here?” Din asked.

“I’ll still be part of it,” Luke professed with absolute certainty. “When they need me, I’ll be there.” 

“I’ll miss you when you’re away,” Din said wistfully, hugging Luke tighter, already imagining Luke’s distasteful but necessary sojourns. 

“Good.”

“Good?” Din repeated. “You _want_ me to miss you?”

“Yes, I want you to miss me,” Luke repeated, as his hand came up to wrap around Din’s neck, caressing the folds of Din’s new cape. “But not right now. Right now, I want to remind you what you’ll miss when I’m gone.”

Luke was fiddling with the seals of Din’s helmet, body pressing all along Din’s front. Din’s own hands came up to stop him. “I don’t think Lando’s show is over yet.”

“It’s over for us.” One of Luke’s hands had drifted down, and he drummed his fingers on the top of Din’s jetpack. “Fly us out of here.”

“People will talk about our dramatic exit,” Din told him.

“Let them talk.”

Din ignited the jetpack’s thrusters. Together, they ascended into the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando’a Translations  
> As I learned from Kaden Garral’s Mando’a language lessons, pragmatics is everything. Many Mando’a words have multiple meanings, and the appropriate semantic translation can be inferred from the context. My end notes always offer context-based translations.  
> Ke’moti ti Mand’alor = Stand with the Mand’alor.  
> Ibic haar yust = This is the Way.  
> kar’ta beskar = iron heart (the symbol in the armor breastplate)


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time, what awaited them outside the coziness of the cockpit was nothing like paparazzi. It was clan. Their clan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In addition to just wanting to write about Din and Luke sharing an X-Wing cockpit, the following poem excerpt also inspired me as I wrote and is the source of the fic’s title:
> 
>  _The village on the highland seen from afar at sunset, the river  
>  between,  
> Shadows, aureola and mist, the light falling on roofs and gables of  
> white or brown two miles off,  
> The schooner near by sleepily dropping down the tide, the little  
> boat slack-tow'd astern,  
> The hurrying tumbling waves, quick-broken crests, slapping,  
> The strata of color’d clouds, the long bar of maroon-tint away  
> solitary by itself, the spread of purity it lies motionless in,  
> The horizon's edge, the flying sea-crow, the fragrance of salt  
> marsh and shore mud,  
> These became part of that child who went forth every day, and  
> who now goes, and will always go forth every day._  
> –Walt Whitman, There Was a Child Went Forth

Din’s visor adjusted to the sunlight, which streamed into the cockpit when the canopy creaked open and retracted back. 

Yaim’ol.

He was home. 

Steam billowed out as the climate-controlled air of the ship met the arid heat of the desert.

Din heard a sound and looked up. A face-shaped blob appeared just overhead, dark and obscured against the backdrop of the solar rays of Tran, which fuzzed out the edges of the figure like a hazy halo.

“Su cuy’gar, Din.”

Din peered up at the shadowed face looking down into the cockpit. He unclasped his helmet and tugged it off, letting it rest in his lap. “You already knew I’m still alive,” he teased, leaning into their bond. 

“But you said that’s the traditional greeting, especially when one hasn’t seen their vod in a long time.”

“It was five days.”

“Mm. Five days too long. I thought _I’d_ be the one traveling a lot.”

“Waiting at home for me doesn’t suit you?”

“Not even a little.”

The bond between them hummed. Din knew what it was now, the feeling in the back of his mind that seemed almost alive with its own contented awareness. A Force-bond. It had manifested naturally between them, and Din appreciated how it always let him know when Luke was close. He’d even learned how to nurture it, mentally ‘petting’ it from time to time—other times poking at it in light chastisement or to get Luke’s attention. Not that it was ever hard for Din to get Luke’s attention. 

Now, Din reached up, inviting his welcome committee to climb into the cockpit and onto his lap so they were facing one another. His helmet clattered to the floor. The sun now graced the front of Luke’s face, highlighting the bones of his cheeks and reflecting almost blindingly in his blue eyes. “Olarom’cyar’ika,” Din greeted him warmly.

Din rubbed Luke’s back, and they shared a chaste welcome-home kiss. Din knew it wouldn’t be long before they were interrupted.

As if Din was the one with Force intuition, he heard a modulated voice shout from outside the ship. “Where’d Master Skywalker go? Mand’alor is home! Grogu sent me out to greet him.”

Luke ducked his head and chuckled into Din’s shoulder. “Maybe we should just hide in here for a while.”

Din rolled his eyes, remembering Luke saying the same thing under similar circumstances when they’d first gone to Coruscant in Luke’s X-Wing. But this time, what awaited them outside the coziness of the cockpit was nothing like paparazzi. It was clan. _Their_ clan. “They’re just as much yours as mine.”

Din and Luke did not live in a castle on Mandalore. 

Well, their primary residence _was_ on Mandalore. (They kept Luke’s Coruscant apartment furnished for both political and familial visits.)

And the Morut _did_ serve as a kind of defensible underground fortress that resembled a castle.

But they definitely weren’t living there alone. 

Mandalorians who’d dispersed throughout the known galaxy had heeded Din’s call, respecting the core tenets of the Resol’nare. They presented themselves to him with tentative but willing allegiance. Arla’s covert was the one of the first to arrive. Paz brought the Alor and the rest of Din’s surviving covert. More followed every month as word spread of their progress and, apparently, of Din’s exemplary leadership. Din wasn’t sure he was _exemplary,_ but he was trying his best. He was certainly getting fewer and fewer violent challengers to his position as Mand'alor. 

Bo-Katan and Paz had coordinated a successful mission to find the underground cache written about in the translated relics. The vault had been well-protected under dense layers of sand and earth, shielded from the imperial onslaught. Once opened using the Darksaber’s hilt as a key, they found it was full of credits, precious metals, and enough beskar to go around a-hundredfold. Din put the credits to use funding the rebuilding process. They’d begun sand-blasting the glass, slowly recovering the arable land beneath. Fett had some suggestions about that process, and Din welcomed the offer of aid. 

Meanwhile, they mostly lived in underground caverns, the largest stronghold of which was the Morut. Native life had scurried down there, and mineral water sources were abundant. The Alor was running her new forge at all hours. 

Topside, the new settlement of _Balac_ was slowly taking shape. A community was forming around it. It was not home only to Mandalorians, but to Luke’s Jedi students. 

From his seat in the cockpit, Din heard sudden shrieking followed by loud cheers and a few boos. From the noises, the younglings—and maybe some not-so-younglings—were playing a game of get’shuk. Din peeked over the edge of the ship and observed a mix of short and tall Mandalorians chasing a ball back and forth across the pitch that was located next to the temporary landing field. Some players wore helmets. Some didn’t. Din's Alor had been teaching about the reunion age and how there was no need for covertness anymore, but some Mandalorians were slower than others to take off their helmets, and no one was pushed to do so. 

On the field, Paz stood out like a mythosaur amongst lambs. He wore a marker presumably denoting him as referee, but he looked like he was half playing the game anyway. And when Din looked closer, he saw they weren’t all Mandalorians. Lowbacca, Chewbacca’s nephew, was out there, roaring as he led his team in a blitz towards the goal. 

Lowbacca was one of six students Luke had begun teaching in the Jedi way in addition to Grogu. Two of his students were Mandalorians, one of whom had recently sworn the Creed and the other who would soon be ready to do so if she chose. Another student, Jhett, was a foundling. He’d come to them around the same age that Din had been when he was taken in. Luke said that Din had a soft spot for Jhett and let him get away with as much troublemaking as Grogu. Luke was probably right about that. The two adike were practically inseparable. 

Din stretched his legs out and sighed in satisfaction as Luke cuddled against him, one hand holding a fistful of Din's navy cape, which he'd kept after all. They could wait a few moments more before rejoining their clan. Luke’s need for tactile reassurance had not ebbed the more time they spent together. Din thought it was curious that Luke craved such physical closeness despite having a permanently reserved spot in Din’s very mind, but he refrained from saying so. He wouldn’t change Luke for all the beskar on Mandalore. Luckily, he could have both.

Just like _Balac_ itself, the future looked bright and full of opportunity. 

With the happy sounds of his growing clan ringing in his ears and Luke in his arms, Din was suffused with a true sense of jatne manda. He was at one with his clan and his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando’a Translations  
> Tran = sun (modified from tranyc, meaning sunny)  
> Yaim'ol = homecoming  
> Su cuy’gar = you’re still alive (traditional greeting)  
> Vod = comrade, mate  
> Olarom’cyar’ika = welcome home, dear  
> Morut = haven, stronghold  
> Balac = opportunity  
> Get-shuk = a game similar to rugby  
> Adike = children, littles ones (endearment)  
> Jatne manda = good mood, a sense of being at one with your clan and life


End file.
